Tamblin Demosthene and the Artiste's Alcove
by Tlalcopan
Summary: This is the first of a series of books I wrote for my kids set in the Harry Potter setting and occurring at the same time. These stories are meant to interweave seamlessly with the HP books and focus on characters primarily in the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses. The Tamblin books are a tad darker than the HP books, starting at about the level of the 3rd or 4th HP book.
1. Chapter 1

**Tamblin Demosthene and the Artiste's Alcove**

Tamblin listened to the high soft voice of the house elf as it snuck into the room.

"Is it time? The Young Master must not be late, train leaves at 11, and so much to do. But Young Master needs sleep and rest. That's why Vlora goes and buys his things for him. Yes, Master must sleep and be rested."

Tamblin lay still giving no sign that he had woken earlier.

"But what if Vlora is wrong? Master missing train would be so naughty. Vlora can't let that happen."

Small hands shook Tamblin gently.

"Young Master, today is the day, we must be up and eat and dress and get things and then you must be off. Unless you need sleep."

Tamblin let his eyes open. The dwarfish figure of the house elf Vlora stood by his bed, much as she had every morning. It was rare however for her to wake him.

"Good morning, Vlora. Is breakfast is ready?"

"Yes of course, Young Master. You need lots of good food for your trip to Hogwarts!"

As always Vlora literally swelled with pride when she mentioned his acceptance to the school of witchcraft and wizardry. The Demosthene family had been pure blood as far back as the family histories went and that was very far indeed. He was however the first of his name to attend the English school of magic.

Tamblin felt generally apathetic to the matter. While he supposed it was generally good to be carrying on in his parent's traditions, and while Hogwarts was no doubt a fine institution, he felt no great desire to be a wizard. Nor, though, did he feel much impetus toward some other vocation. His family estate was certainly large enough for him to live off of comfortably to an old age.

He might have drifted along had not an owl appeared upon his stoop with the card informing him of his acceptance to Hogwarts. Once Vlora saw that it was all she could talk about. He had on several occasions been tempted to order her never to speak of the matter again, but the house elf had served him faithfully since he was a child, providing nourishment and instruction, and he felt somewhat inclined to humor her despite her station.

He padded silently down the stairs toward the study when Vlora rushed to intercept him.

"Master, breakfast is on the dining table."

"Vlora, I prefer to eat in the study."

"But Master the family tradition is for all meals to be taken at the dining room table."

"Really? I had forgotten since you told me that yesterday. And every day before. What did I say to you the first day I chose to eat in the study?"

"You asked how many people could be seated at the dining room table."

"Go on."

"I said it seated eighteen or seventy two when the extending charm is used. And you asked how many the desk in the study seated. And I said 'one.' And you asked how many were having breakfast. And I said 'one.' And you said then we had no need of seating for seventeen guests who would not be arriving."

"Thank you for reciting it once again," Tamblin said wearily.

"But Master, tradition is...was so important to your father and the family."

"Yes, but in this one matter my family will have to be disappointed."

"Yes, Master," said Vlora and hurried off to gather the breakfast dishes and bring them to the study.

Within the study Tamblin could look out through windows on the various fields he had played in as a small child, always with Vlora standing by to heal any cuts or scrapes. Instead he focused on the large dark red cherry wood desk which had been his father's and so back several generations.

On the desk stood a number of quills and bottles of ink with various properties. In an old brass picture frame stood a man dressed in a formal suit and staring reproachfully at Tamblin. There was a definite family resemblance between the two. Next to the man stood two boys of similar ages. One of them was Tamblin's father and the other an uncle he had never met. The family stood in front of a castle portcullis and occasionally a servant peered out of the background with a nervous look. Next to the animated picture stood a complicated brass instrument like a sextant. Instead of navigating by stars though it navigated amongst family holdings. Next to the sextant was a small statuette of an amphisbaen- a snake with a head at each end. When Tamblin sat at the desk it woke and looked at him with emeralds flickering in its' eyes. Both tongues flicked out tasting the air. When it had satisfied itself that Tamblin belonged it slithered up to his arm and around his wrist. The heads linked to each other and the statuette slept close to his body heat.

Vlora bustled in laden with plates, jugs, cups, saucers, and bowls so that the house elf underneath was concealed as some form of walking sideboard. The amphisbaen looked up at the house elf and flicked a tongue at her before settling back to sleep.

While Tamblin ate Vlora returned equally laden but this time by heavy books.

"Young Master, I sent for these books. They are the ones you'll need for the school!"

Tamblin nodded silently and tried not to notice the two octave rise in her voice when she said "school."

"I've also packed your bags with the clothes and cauldron and everything else and I laid out some fine clothes for the trip!"

This was somewhat worrying news. With a feeling of dread he finished breakfast and then removed the amphisbaen back to her spot by the sextant. Then he headed back to his room to dress.

Laid out on the bed was an orange t-shirt with polka dots of navy blue. Next to it was a sweater of lime green with fringe along the seams. Below it was a pair of violet pants with a slight bell bottom flair at the ends.

"Vlora, can you join me up here for a moment?"

A small crashing sound from something dropped was followed by the house elf's hasty entrance. Tamblin pointed at the cloth monstrosities on the bed.

"That is the outfit you picked out for me to wear?"

"Yes, Master will be so bright and colorful. Everyone will know Vlora's master is the best, even at Hogwarts!"

At this thought she began to hum an improvised tune to which she danced an equally improvised jig.

"Vlora, listen carefully."

The house elf stopped mid-dance with one foot still held up in the air. Her ears were stretched out as far as they could to listen.

"I want those clothes incinerated."

Vlora's ears immediately dropped flat against her head.

"Burned? You want fancy clothes burned?"

"Oh, yes. Put them in the big fireplace and burn them thoroughly. I don't want so much as a single thread to remain. Wait. Before you do that are there any 'fancy' clothes in the bags you packed?"

Vlora shook her head slightly. Her eyes were downcast.

"I had to use a charm to make Master's clothes fancy and bright."

"I'm not mad at you, Vlora. But you would do well to remember that I am not a house elf and am not interested in the fashions of your kind."

Hesitantly Vlora retrieved the clothes from the bed and shuffled off to burn them as instructed. Tamblin rummaged through the dresser and found suitably subdued clothes of black, grey, and white in which to dress.

Dressed and back down in the first floor living room Tamblin looked approvingly upon the blazing fire in a hearth large enough to serve a small family for an apartment. Vlora approached cautiously bearing a parcel wrapped in a deep red silk bag closed at the end with black drawstrings.

"Master there's one other thing you'd be needing for Hogwarts."

She held out the parcel to him. He took it gently and untied the drawstrings. From the bag he pulled out a thick rod, fifteen inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. The material was some strange smooth black substance. As he held it his hand tingled slightly and felt cool, almost cold. Tamblin looked from the item to Vlora who shuffled back and forth from one foot to the other.

"It was your father's wand, Master."

Tamblin regarded the wand again.

"I thought wands were slimmer, tapered, and made of wood," Tamblin said.

"They come in many forms, Master. But I know this to be his wand. I saw him use it many times especially when Vlora was naughty," Vlora said cringing slightly at some memory.

"Well I think this was a very appropriate choice, but you'll not have to fear me often using it as my father did. Thank you, Vlora."

The house elf regained the vigor her earlier scolding had cost her. She began busying herself about the house muttering to herself everything that must be done.

The time came to leave for the station. Vlora tried to insist on coming along but as he was traveling to the station by muggle taxi that was impractical. At the door to the Demosthene mansion Tamblin put a hand on the elf's small shoulder.

"Will you be able to manage the affairs here alone?"

"Yes Master, the house will be in good shape for your return."

Large tears filled the elf's huge eyes.

"Very well, you may use the owl post to contact me at Hogwarts if there is a necessity."

Vlora solemnly nodded and clutched her hands together.

"Be careful Young Master."

Tamblin walked out the door and down the path to the drive way where the taxi waited.


	2. Chapter 2

The driver had no problems finding the station as it was also used by muggle trains. As Tamblin watched the buildings of London pass him by through the window he made no effort to respond to the driver's babbling. Here and there he could pick out witches and wizards amongst the vast hordes of muggles. Being alone and in the wider world outside his estates was a genuinely new experience for the boy and with it came excitement and fear. For the first time Tamblin began to really feel something about attending Hogwarts.

The train station was packed with a great many muggles. Another new sensation for Tamblin was that of being jostled by adults who seemed oblivious to him. The unpleasantness of this hurried him on toward platform 9 ¾.

The way to the platform was straight through a brick wall and he paused in the shadows to watch. A normal seeming family walked up toward the wall, looked quickly around and then ran straight through it without harm or pause. He watched a few more travelers do the same routine before trying it himself. In case it was part of the magic he made sure to look around himself even though he felt sure no one was paying him the slightest attention.

He ran at the wall as fast as he could carrying the bags Vlora had packed. The wall melted around him so that he then stood on a new platform, seemingly unconnected to the rest of the muggle station. A large sign made it clear the train was servicing Hogwarts and would depart at 11:00.

Many families with students stood milling about on the platform, saying goodbyes, giving and receiving last maternal instructions and generally buzzing with talk about the coming year. Tamblin found a quiet corner of the platform in which to stand and observe his fellow students.

He guessed from the diminutive stature of the smallest students that he was tall for his age. Many in the crowd were as thin as he was and a few as pale. Nowhere did he notice boys with long nails like his. It was a tradition of the Demosthene house and he had to admit he liked how the white nails made his already tapered hands look even longer. He had never guessed though that this tradition was peculiar to his family alone. Perhaps it was more common among the aristocracy of Eastern Europe where his forefathers had lived. He might have to ask about that, once he knew whom he could ask.

All across the platform siblings were fighting and laughing. Parents were fussing and crying and hugging children. As he stood back he felt a small pang. He was alone and unnoticed. Were he to fall in front of the train right now the only one who'd care much would be a suddenly unemployed house elf.

This moroseness was unbecoming he knew and he shook his head to clear it. Besides which as he listened to the chatter he found criticism evoked more than sentimentality. His fellows exhibited appalling diction and grammar. Even the older students seemed intent on butchering the language. And the topics! Tamblin marveled that anyone no matter how young could spend so much energy discussing quidditch, gobstones, and summer vacations. Especially when so little was actually said.

Lastly he noticed how expressive the younger students were. Laughing, crying, smiling, frowning, they seemed intent on bearing each and every emotion for all to see. He would guess that by comparison he must look very staid and the free outpouring of emotion he found distasteful.

The mixture of envy and disgust pushed away his previous sense of adventure and excitement at the journey. So it was with little enthusiasm he boarded the train at the sound of the whistle. The train itself was crammed, more so because the students sharing his compartment seemed sure another would fit on his bench despite how full it obviously was. A tall freckly girl sat opposite him and and displayed an uncanny ability to speak at the girl next to her without ever pausing for breath. The nervous pudgy boy to Tamblin's left kept nodding off to sleep and then starting awake to clutch at the paper bag in his lap. An older boy was reading "Which Broomstick" magazine and kept mumbling something about "owls." From time to time other students looked at him but as Tamblin remained silent they were soon again distracted.

Most of the time Tamblin spent looking out the window at the passing countryside. At the moment he'd much rather have been in his spacious house than in this cramped compartment filled with inane chatter and quickly heading toward a night which would obscure his only distraction.

A trolley cart came down the aisle between compartments pausing at each. Eventually it reached Tamblin's compartment and the attendant opened the door. Several of the older students were already fumbling in their pockets.

"Good day, young gents and ladies. Like a nice treat for the ride? Cauldron Cakes? Chocolate Frogs?"

Tamblin watched the pudgy boy next to him start counting out an obscene number of bronze knuts. The girls opposite seemed to be prizing silver sickles from their purses when Tamblin stood up and crossed to the cart. Several gold Galleons dropped out of his hand on to the trolley cart.

"Please set out a good selection of 'treats' for my traveling companions."

Everyone in the car seemed to have really noticed him for the first time. He felt all their stares as he stepped quickly back to his seat. And they were smiling at him, which perhaps made him the most uncomfortable of all. A small avalanche of food was being deposited in the compartment when the "owl" boy stood up and took a step toward Tamblin.

"That's awfully nice of you. I'm Corwyn Fleet." He held his hand out.

Tamblin looked at the hand and then up to Corwyn's eyes. The gesture seemed somehow unseemly.

"It's a family tradition that one shares a meal with fellow travelers. Thanking the benefactor is not customary."

Whether it was his tone or his words Corwyn seemed taken aback. He slowly lowered his hand and sat back down. The girl opposite began whispering to her neighbor. Both of them casting furtive glances at Tamblin. He wondered if obsequiousness was expected of first years.

The drowsy boy was busy shucking chocolate frog wrappers and more often than not chasing the loose frog around before devouring it. He also swooned over some sort of card included with the frogs.

Tamblin eventually tried a Cauldron Cake. He had to admit it was quite tasty and wholly unlike the food Vlora had made him since he was a child. He next tried a Chocolate Frog, quickly snapping it's neck as it tried to flee from him. He found the edible amphibian rather too rich for his palette. Looking at the card included with the frog he saw a wizard pouring a pinkish liquid from a bowl into a greenish liquid in a larger bowl. The card wizard looked up and scowled at Tamblin as the mixture bubbled violently. Flipping the card over Tamblin found the name "Paraclesus." Apparently a wizard of some renown with potions.

The drowsy boy was looking eagerly at the card in Tamblin's hand. Tamblin slowly held the card out to the boy who again eagerly took it. Looking up he smiled at Tamblin, his teeth a matted brown from all the frogs.

Tamblin lost his appetite for the rest of the trip.


	3. Chapter 3

When the train finally arrived it was black outside. Students began filing off the train in much the same frenetic state in which they had boarded. Tamblin followed quietly after everyone else in his compartment had left. First years were being herded by older students wearing silver badges embossed with a "p" on them toward a small hill. Except the hill was talking.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!," the hill said.

A girl near Tamblin said "Is he a giant? What do you think?" to a companion she thought beside her but wasn't. She rounded on Tamblin as if the comment had been meant for him all along.

Tamblin said, "I think you could build a respectable chateau on him and have a spectacular view of the country."

The girl stared at him a second and then started screeching with laughter. Tamblin sidled away. The hill man lead them along a dark path. After a turn the whole of Hogwarts became visible and it was an impressive sight to Tamblin. The castle had a definite air of grandeur and majesty. Far more welcoming than the concrete and glass of London. It reminded him of home, although of course the castle dwarfed his mansion many times over.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the hill man shouted.

Tamblin stopped cold. He didn't care for water, at least not deep water and these boats were small and entirely inadequate in his opinion. The lake the boats stood on was pitch black. He had no idea what lived in it. Everyone else was in or making their way into the boats while he watched.

When he was the last left on dry land he jerked himself forward and into an open space in a boat. The alternative was being left behind as he knew he would be. He chose a boat with only two other students in it, hoping the boat would hold up better under less weight. He needn't have worried given that another boat was able to support the hill man who weighed much more than any four eleven year old children put together.

As the boats crossed the water silently everyone seemed focused on the spectacle of the growing castle ahead. Tamblin tried to watch the castle but soon felt dizzy and nauseous and had to close his eyes tightly. Only when the boat scraped against a beach of rocks and pebbles could he open them again.

Most of the trip up to the castle was a blur to Tamblin as his body worked through the byproducts of fear. There was a stern looking woman and some mention of a ceremony and then waiting. A number of ghosts flew through the wall into the waiting room which frightened many of the other first years. Tamblin while startled by their appearance had prior experience with ghosts and was not scared of them.

His fellow first years were wound tight by apprehension as they were lead into a mammoth hall filled with four long tables for students and a raised table for adults. Tamblin corrected himself: not 'adults,' they were 'professors.' The first years had been lead in front of the professor's table and faced out at the rest of Hogwart's students. There was an intimidating number of eyes focused on the small first year students.

The stern woman brought out a stool which she placed in front of the first years and placed on it an old hat. Silence spread throughout the hall. The hat then twitched on it's own and began to sing:

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart.  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The students lucky enough to already be sorted into houses cheered wildly. Then the stern woman returned and began reading off names from a list. Each student in turn had to sit on the stool and wear the hat until it shouted out the name of one of the four houses. That house's students then cheered wildly as the student quickly scurried off toward their table and away from the spotlight.

The woman was reading in alphabetical order so it didn't take long for her to call out "Demosthene, Tamblin!"

As he stepped out of the ranks of remaining first years he felt the entire focus of the hall come down on him. By comparison the boat ride was pleasant. As Tamblin stared out at the hall the pressure became a physical weight.

Then time began to slow.

He noticed the sound first. It stopped entirely except for a rigid drumbeat sound that made his head throb. His view narrowed down to a small tunnel of sight. Through it he could see the hat and the stool and nothing more. Years passed by as he walked toward the stool. Somehow he found a seat and the hat ended up on his head. It moved although he couldn't hear it. His eyes swept across the hall until in his narrow field of focus he saw students silently clapping. Mechanically he lifted off the hat and walked toward the table.

People clapped him on the back as he neared the table and was guided to a seat. Time began to return to normal slowly. As it did his vision widened and he noticed the students around him were looking at him with obvious concern. Someone else pulled on his shoulder guiding him to stand and then turning him toward the main entrance of the hall. As he was guided out sound began to return and he clearly heard a girl at his table say as he passed, "Look at his hands!"


	4. Chapter 4

Tamblin came around in a room filled with beds. He remembered nothing after the girl's comment in the main hall. Looking down at his hands he saw they were clenched into fists. Releasing them was hard, the muscles had cramped up from the extended clench. His nails had punctured the skin of his hands leaving four half moon cuts in each palm. The outsides of his hands had been washed off but his palms were still caked with his own blood.

"Never mind the small things," said a high pitched voice from beside the bed. Tamblin looked over at a chair next to the bed and saw a very short mostly bald wizard sitting there with glittering eyes.

"I'm Filius Flitwick. Professor of Charms." Flitwick smiled easily at Tamblin.

"I don't know what happened," Tamblin said.

"Madam Pomfrey says she can't treat a case of nerves. I don't think we need worry about it, lets just make sure you are alright and stay in the infirmary tonight and tomorrow we'll get you situated in the dormitories."

"I don't even know which house I'm in."

Flitwick looked puzzled.

"Why, my house, my boy: Ravenclaw. You're a Ravenclaw, now and always."

He absorbed this for a second.

"Professor I apologize for that scene in the Great Hall."

"Never mind my boy, never mind. Little surprises happen in life. Especially here."

Tamblin lay back and stared at the dark roof of the Infirmary.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning a tall boy with a shiny prefects badge and oddly blue hair came to see Tamblin.

"Professor Flitwick asked me to see you to the Ravenclaw tower. He said you can join your classmates afterward."

Tamblin nodded and got out of bed. His bags were not here and he supposed they'd made it to his house even though he hadn't. As they walked along the prefect showed little inclination to chat which was a relief but he did introduce himself as Jacob Fletcher.

Fletcher lead Tamblin past the entrance to the library through which Tamblin could see a labyrinth of bookshelves. In the corridor just past the library he stopped in front of the third suit of armor on the right. The armor's helmet turned slightly as if watching them.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. The password currently is 'lamentation.' Remember it because it's the only way in, and it's forbidden to share the password with anyone outside of Ravenclaw."

Tamblin turned toward the armor and said, "Lamentation."

A hole appeared in the center of the armor as the armor separated out and expanded. Soon a portal large enough to walk through with pieces of the armor all along the edges had formed in the wall. Through the portal Tamblin could see a room that looked much like the glimpse of the library he had seen.

The Ravenclaw common room was lined with bookshelves along the walls and had many free standing bookshelves as well. Various armchairs and low tables were scattered about, most clearly chosen for their utility than their aesthetics. A central open hearth provided heat as well as light. Some of the book cases had torch sconces as well but still the common room had plenty of pools of shadow from the freestanding book cases.

"This room was once part of the library but is now freestanding. It's a nice study area and the most commonly used library books can be found on the shelves. Don't try to remove any of the books, they're for use in here only. That stairway over there leads to the boys dormitory."

Tamblin followed Fletcher up several flights to a dormitory with six beds in it. On one of them were the bags Vlora had packed.


	6. Chapter 6

"Who can tell me the difference between a charm and a transfiguration," asked Professor McGonagall, although Tamblin still thought of her as the 'Stern Woman.'

After a moment of quiet Tamblin put his hand up. From the back of the class it was easy to see that no one else had yet. A minute later a Ravenclaw girl a few seats in front of him raised her hand and McGonagall called on her.

"Charms make things do stuff, and transfigurations make things into other things."

McGonagall's stare lost none of it's severity and the girl pinked slightly.

"Essentially correct, though clumsily stated. A charm affects the essential behavior of a subject while a transfiguration changes the attributes of a subject. A charm may make a chair float but it remains a chair. In this class you will learn how to make a chair become something else entirely. Five points for Ravenclaw.

"Similarly can anyone tell me the difference between a hex and a curse?"

Again Tamblin raised his hand when he saw no one else do so but McGonagall waited without calling on him. With a slight edge of impatience in her voice she eventually answered he own question for the class.

"A curse is the name for harmful charms, while a hex is a harmful transfiguration. Hence 'Immobilus' is a charm that forces a person to stop moving, meanwhile 'Petrificus Totalus' is a transfiguration that causes temporary petrification. While both have the same result they work in very different ways."

A Hufflepuff boy in the front row raised his hand eagerly. McGonagall looked down over her glasses at him.

"Yes?"

"What about Jinxes, Professor?"

Rather than see if anyone could answer, McGonagall immediately replied, "Jinxes may be either charms or transfigurations. It simply means a very minor hex or curse. The trip jinx for instance is a charm, and hence a curse, but because its effect is so minor it is generally called a jinx. I expect you shall learn much more on that subject in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell. In this class, however, we will be concerned only with transfigurations, and you will find the topic worth every effort you make for it."

The rest of the lesson was spent on basic transfiguration theory and wand movement.


	7. Chapter 7

"Does an-an-anyone kn-kn-kn-know the most i-i-im-important thing for a wizard facing the dark ar-r-arts?" Asked Professor Quirrell in the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

One boy volunteered, "A wand?"

Quirrell smiled but shook his head.

"No-no-nobody? I'll tell y-y-you then: p-pro-pronunciation!"

If he expected a reaction he must have been disappointed.

"Oh y-y-yes. It's no g-g-good facing a dark wizard only to say 'exeliparmus' instead of 'ex-ex-expelliarmus.'"

Several muffled giggles could be heard around the room.

Quirrell smiled again and said, "Now you know why I'm a pro-professor and n-n-not an Auror."

They were then to pair up and test each other on pronunciation of a variety of incantations. Tamblin looked around and saw nobody to work with. Quirrell sat down in a desk next to him a moment later.

"I-I-I'll work with you if you d-d-don't mind."

"Yes, Professor," Tamblin said. He looked up at Quirrell and their eyes locked. Tamblin got a strange slightly queasy feeling looking into Quirrell's eyes.

Tamblin began to work his way through the list of phrases and Quirrell only had to stop him a couple times to correct a mistake.

"Close my-my-my dear boy, but that's the latin pronunciation and this word is greek."

Toward the end of the lesson Quirrell said "Please stay a m-mo-moment after class; I'd like to discuss something with y-y-you," and then to the rest of the class, "All right, time to a-a-adjourn for today. R-Re-Remember: Pronunciation!"

As the rest of the class filtered out Tamblin remained seated. None of his classmates commented on his remaining behind. Quirrell took time to erase the chalkboard with a wave of his wand.

Tamblin waited quietly for Quirrell to notice him. Quirrell had his back turned toward Tamblin when he got that queasy feeling again. Still waving his wand at the erasing chalkboards, Quirrell said, "That's a most unusual wand you c-c-carry, my boy. Not from a local wa-wa-wand shop, is it?"

"No, Professor."

Quirrell stopped and looked at him.

"Well, d-d-do you know anything about it?"

"It was my father's wand."

"I see. Do you know w-w-what it's called?"

"Called?"

Quirrell nodded.

"No, Professor, what is it called?"

"That t-t-type of wand is called a bloodwand. U-un-unfortunate name. It's made by compressing tree sap instead of carved from w-w-wood. They are usually thick b-b-because they are too brittle when thin. Sap is a tree's b-b-blood you see. Ah well, you b-b-better hurry along to your next class."


	8. Chapter 8

"Demosthene, What on earth are you doing?" shouted Madam Hooch.

Tamblin clung to the broom as it swerved across the pitch uncontrolled. From the first moment he'd kicked off from the ground, the broom had refused to behave, but it wasn't until he was careening out of control past his fellow students that Madam Hooch noticed.

Tamblin looked at the ground streaking past and wondered how much it would hurt to simply let go and fall off. He guessed the answer was 'a lot.'

He swept over another student who barely ducked in time, Madam Hooch sped off after him. When she came alongside and gripped his broom, it immediately straightened up to fly parallel to her own.

"That's enough of your hijinks, Mr. Demosthene!"

Tamblin was wheezing from the fear and effort to clutch the broom tight enough to prevent falling off.

"Madam Hooch, do you think I might be excused from flight practice from now on?"

"Yes, I think you may," she replied coolly.

Tamblin returned to the earth very grateful for its stability and ignoring the mocking laughter of his classmates.


	9. Chapter 9

The Ghost of Professor Binns floated slowly about the room as he spoke in his monotone voice about the wizarding traditions of the Celtics and how they varied from those of the Saxons and later Anglos. Tamblin and some Gryffindor girl seemed to be the only two paying attention. They were also the only two who raised their hands to answer questions. Binns preferred to call of Miss Granger for the answers.

Tamblin found the topic actually rather interesting. It reminded him very much of the long and dry stories of family history Vlora had read aloud to him before he learned to read them for himself. He wrote himself a note to have Vlora send a few volumes of the family records to share with Professor Binns.


	10. Chapter 10

Tamblin sighed as he dug through the potting soil for the Alaphas root in Herbology. He was very aware that the class seemed to be nothing more than menial labor. And three times a week at that!

That these roots would then be used in Potions did nothing to lift his mood. That class too seemed to be degrading busy work. He hadn't come to Hogwarts to be a gardener or a cook. At least, though, the Potions classroom was dimly lit unlike the bright greenhouses. Similarly Tamblin preferred Professor Snape to Professor Sprout. While it was true that Snape was caustic and even sadistic, he rarely turned that venom on Tamblin, and Tamblin had to admire the way he could convey all his emotions, from everyday contempt to withering contempt, without ever raising the volume of his voice. Sprout, on the other hand, seemed eager to yell out the smallest instruction or bit of praise. Tamblin had in fact seriously considered wearing some sort of ear cover to her classes.

The Alaphas root peeked out of the soil, waved one dirty tendril toward him and then retreated again into the dirt.


	11. Chapter 11

By the end of the first month Tamblin had discovered the joys of nightly walks. He didn't seem to need as much sleep as the rest of the Ravenclaws, and that coupled with Corner's snoring at first drove him from the dormitories to the Ravenclaw common room nightly. This satisfied for a while, until he was sure he'd perused all the books worth looking at.

Then he felt called to explore the wider ways of the rest of the castle. He, and all first years, had been explicitly told that walking the corridors at night was forbidden. Yet he couldn't resist. The castle was a whole other place, a better place when he could creep down darkened halls with no one else around.

Filch seemed utterly incapable of catching Tamblin, even when he passed nearby. Only Mrs. Norris, the green-eyed cat Filch fawned over, provided a challenge.

Often during these walks he'd steal into the library and slip between the stacks. He came to truly haunt the library and love it in a way he hadn't loved any place before. The books were of course a wonderful draw, but the labyrinthine ways of the library itself is what really drew him in. He kept charting out different paths in his mind, but he always found new ones.

He became so obsessed with the library that he'd often slip out of his herbology classes in order to go spend time amongst the bookshelves. He found it easy enough to do. Sprout would check attendance and then describe the lesson. Soon after that she'd be absorbed in checking individual student's work. At that point Tamblin could quietly slip out of class and make his way back from the greenhouse to the library.

He became so comfortable with ditching herbology class that he began skipping out of the others on occasion. Except Defense Against the Dark Arts. The one time he tried to slip out of that class, Quirrel immediately asked him what he was doing. Tamblin felt very uncomfortable as all the rest of the students turned to look at him. He had mumbled something about his stomach bothering him. Quirrell excused him with a curt nod, but he never again tried to slip out of that class.

During his daylight library escapades, he began to play a game with Mrs. Pince the short-tempered librarian. He would follow behind her as she stalked the other students looking for any sign of wrongdoing she could punish. He tried getting as close behind her as he could without alerting her. After he bored of this, he began the more demanding task of luring her away from others using the library. The sound of a book dropped on the floor would draw her like a shark to blood. Several times he overheard conversations from students and helped them remain undisturbed. In a weird way it helped him feel connected to them. He was, in a way, involving himself with their conversation even though they'd never know he was there.


	12. Chapter 12

He did also use the library for his own research, although even when reading he tended to keep roaming the library rather than sit at a table.

Tamblin was spending less and less time in class. He split the daylight hours between exploring the library, following Madam Pince, and watching or eavesdropping on other students in the library. His nights were generally spent resting for a few hours and then prowling the hallways and grounds of the castle. Only grudgingly did he give up any hours to class and homework. His marks had been less than exemplary, but surprisingly good given how rarely he saw the teachers. The exception was Defense Against the Dark Arts, where he did very well due to his added attendance.

In late September, he noticed a curious behavior on the part of Madam Pince. He had been following her around the library as she dusted and cursed the children who marred her books. She had been mechanically dusting each shelf and each volume in order when she skipped a row of books entirely and went on to the next. It was his habit to locate her upon first entering the library regardless of his plans for the day, and so the next time he noticed her cleaning in that area of the library he followed again and observed her again skip that particular row of books.

A small cough from another section of the library sounded. Pince was off in a second to accost the violator. Tamblin meanwhile crept up to the curious shelf and examined it without touching. The books looked fairly innocuous except for a slightly smoking book titled "Love's Conflagration" and a large ugly green bound book called simply "Erewhon."

As he considered the shelf he heard Pince returning to her dusting where she had left off. He ducked behind a bookshelf. He decided he could wait until later to explore the mysterious shelf more thoroughly and made his way back out of the library.

At dinner Fletcher, the prefect, weaved up and down the Ravenclaw table until he finally spotted Tamblin.

"There you are! I have a message from Professor Flitwick for you."

Tamblin watched the older boy impassively.

"He wants to talk to you tonight in his office."

With the message relayed, Fletcher made his way down the table to sit with his friends from Ravenclaw and finally get something to eat.

Tamblin quietly finished his meal, as always he avoided talking with his fellow Ravenclaws more than was needed to maintain polite dinner manners.

As he was leaving for Flitwick's office, a commotion started farther down the bench. Padma, a Ravenclaw in his year, was talking excitedly with a girl in Gryffindor robes who must have been her twin sister. The two were opening identical gift boxes wrapped with red bows. Inside the boxes were identical wristwatches of the variety muggles wore. Tamblin was just walking past them and so could see the watches closely. While he had little practice in judging such things, the watches appeared well crafted and stylish, for those who liked muggle chic. A trio of Slytherin boys stepped out in front of Tamblin. He stopped, but the three paid him no attention and instead descended on Padma and her sister.

"Look here boys, the Parvatis have gotten presents."

The blond-haired boy looked at the watches and made a face of disgust.

"Ugh, wretched things. I guess we know why you two aren't in Slytherin. Is it your mom or dad who was stupid enough to marry a muggle? They'll let any halfblood trash into the school these days."

Tamblin turned to the Slytherin and said, "Don't be stupid, Hogwarts is hardly going to allow any lower class students to attend. It's probably a gift from a family servant."

The three Slytherins looked quickly around at Tamblin as if surprised to see him there. The blond one then looked back at the sisters and laughed at how red-faced they were. Walking off he was still loudly laughing with his two flunkies following behind.

Tamblin felt compelled to say something to the sisters, who still looked quite upset by the Slytherin's taunts. Clearly the Slytherin boy had exceeded the bounds of polite conversation when he suggested they were from a low born family.

"I think they look like very nice wristwatches."

Padma rounded on him with a look of fury on her face.

"You...you jerk! Get out of here!"

She and her sister got up and hurried away from the table. Tamblin stood there a moment in confusion as one by one the attention of nearby students flowed off of him and back to their own concerns.

On his way up to Flitwick's office he tried to work out what had happened in the Great Hall, but eventually gave it up as a lost cause.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Come in, come in," chirped the high voice of Professor Flitwick.

Tamblin opened the door and entered the office. It was probably of a goodly size, although it was hard to tell as it was crammed with so many walking books, barking chairs, flying feathers, self-rolling balls, and every other form of charmed object one could imagine and a few that defied all attempts at understanding or prediction. It was like a jungle complete with ecologies of charmed behaviors. In the canopies of junk flitted the small levitating objects. On the floor skittered lines of animated chalk. In the middle at a desk far too large for his small frame sat Professor Flitwick.

"Ah yes, Demosthene, come in my boy. I suspect you know why I called you in here?"

"No, Professor."

"Ah come now, I take it upon myself to check up on my first year students to see how they are...ah...adapting."

He stopped, his head slightly cocked as if expecting some response from Tamblin. None was forthcoming.

"Yes, well I've talked to the other professors and by and large there are some concerns about you. They say you are rarely active in class, and often do not complete assignments. In fact, were it not for your very good marks on the projects you do complete, you'd be in dire risk of failing. And I have to say I've seen the same in Charms."

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"Tut tut, boy. I know you can do it; your superb marks in the Dark Arts class shows what you are capable of; the question is one of application. And if I may broach a delicate topic, it seems that you haven't really fit in well with your peers."

Tamblin thought of Padma's face when she called him a jerk and nodded.

"See! I think that may be a big part of the problem. The more you involve yourself in the school the greater your motivation will be."

"What would you like me to do, Professor?"

"I want you to make a friend. That's all. Find someone you have something in common with and see what happens."

"How should I do that, sir?"

"Well, what do you like, Tamblin?" Flitwick asked.

"I quite like the library, Professor."

"Then start with that, find someone else who seems interested in the library and see where it goes from there."

Flitwick looked quite pleased with himself. Tamblin, on the other hand, felt a certain gloom descend upon him. The task sounded simple and yet the incident in the Great Hall had proved far more complex than he had thought.


	13. Chapter 13

For the next two days he applied himself in class and resisted the temptation to slip out.

Flitwick's admonishment weighed on him, and he decided in the future he might slip out of the occasional class, but only when he knew his marks were good enough to not possibly fail him.

His assignments did certainly improve, although he reflected bitterly that it was unfair of the teachers to fault him for not participating when they almost never called on him when he did raise his hand to answer a question.

Even though he went to class and tried to pay attention, his thoughts often snuck by themselves back to the library and the shelf that would not be dusted. Finally Saturday arrived and he had the whole day to thoroughly explore that mystery.

After a quick breakfast he made his way up to the library. A quick circuit through the shelves found Madam Pince hunched, vulture-like, over her desk. Tamblin made his way back to the shelf and looked at the titles again. None of the books had been moved as far as he could tell in the days since he first took an interest in them.

As always in the library, he paid careful attention to the sounds around him. As he was looking at the shelf, a small whimper drew his attention. He waited for a moment, struggling between curiosities.

Finally he sighed and slipped off to see what or who had made the sound. In one of the study areas sat a small black-haired Hufflepuff girl, her eyes puffy and red. He'd seen her in some of his classes and guessed therefore she must also be a first year. Her last name was Vega. The Astronomy teacher seemed to dote on her and had made something of a production of pointing out how she shared a name with a star.

Tamblin peeked through the shelves at her for a minute. She was in the library, and she was in his year and Flitwick had told him to make a friend, but he had no idea what to say to her. _And she was crying._ What was he supposed to do in a situation like that?

A shadow moved off to his right. It was Madam Pince closing in. The girl was trying to be quiet as she sobbed, but the Librarian had noticed. Tamblin looked at the shelf in front of him and selected a book called "Quidditch the Welsh Way!"

As he pulled the book off of the shelf it immediately started to say, "Looking to improve your Quidditch scoring average? Tired of waking up injured from a Bludger hit? Well try Quidditch the Welsh Way!"

Tamblin winced and looked down at the book. On the cover it showed an impossibly well-proportioned man and woman flying side by side over a quidditch pitch in some sort of team uniform.

"Books should be read and not heard," he hissed at it, but it continued to try and convince him to read it.

He looked up again and could see Madam Pince had stopped moving, confused by the new source of sound. He thought maybe the talking book would come in handy.

"You'll learn maneuvers like the swallowtail hook and the wel- Cccrrrreeeeetttttttiiiiinnnn!" the book howled at him as he flung it off as far as he could down one row of shelves and ducked into another row.

It worked; Madam Pince immediately started in the direction of the now cursing book. Tamblin turned around and found himself eye to bloodshot eye with the Hufflepuff girl.

"I thought I heard something," she said in a quiet voice.

Tamblin put a finger to his lips and then motioned her to follow him. He led her back toward the strange shelf and away from Madam Pince.

Once there he whispered to her, "I threw a book off to distract the Librarian, you...uh...looked like you'd rather not be disturbed."

He wondered why that sounded so much less dignified when said than it did in his head. But he needn't have worried.

"That's very sweet," she said smiling.

"It is?"

"Yes, thank you," she whispered.

"Then you're welcome."

A long silence followed.

"So why are we standing here," she asked.

"Oh, there's something odd with this shelf. I was investigating when I heard you...I mean...when I got distracted."

Tamblin wasn't sure if he was supposed to mention her obvious distress or politely feign ignorance. He figured the best bet was to nonchalantly change the topic.

As he reached up toward the "Erewhon" book he asked, "What is your name anyway?"

"Cascata," she said and reached out to shake his hand.

As she did he touched the "Erewhon" book and everything changed. He seemed to be pulled through the book in a rapid and not very comfortable way. He passed through the pages and could smell the ink. Then he was disgorged on the other side. He was disoriented, although he thought he felt all right except for a slight tug at his right hand. Looking down at his hand he saw that Cascata was still gripping it and that she too had been drawn through "Erewhon" into wherever he was.

He took a moment to regain his feet and in doing so helped Cascata up as well. She seemed even more disoriented than he was. And while she recovered he looked around. It was a seven-sided room. Behind him instead of a wall was the back of the bookshelf. He could even see into the library through the cracks in the books. He knew though that from the other side there appeared to be nothing but stone behind the bookshelf. The walls adjacent to the bookshelf were blank stone with torch sconces. The other four walls were each covered by a single huge painting. From left to right they showed a Painter in a studio; an underwater scene of merpeople, grindylows, and kelpies; a frazzled man trying to write on a blank parchment; and a beautiful dark-skinned dancing girl wearing an exotic outfit with many scarves.

"What happened? Where are we?" Cascata sounded frightened.

"I'm not sure. It's a hidden room behind the bookcase. We got pulled in when I touched that book."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"I don't think the paintings can hurt us, and there's nothing else here."

"What else would you need in Erewhon," called the painter from his painting.

Cascata and Tamblin both approached the painting of an artist's studio. In it the Painter painted frantically on a canvas that was oriented away from the looker so they couldn't see the face. Around him were dozens of other paintings in various stages of finish. And in the background a short column sprouted from the floor and had a bowl built into the top of it.

"Excuse me, what's Erewhon?" asked Cascata.

"This is. This is Erewhon, the 'Artiste's Alcove.' Surely you've heard of it?"

Tamblin shook his head, "No."

The painter huffed slightly.

"Well, no matter, so long as you've heard of _me_. You have heard of me, right?"

Tamblin and Cascata both paused for a moment.

"You _have_ heard of me, right?"

"Oh yeah, you're...um...Phausto Philena," said Cascata suddenly.

The painter looked suspicious.

"Well then, you also no doubt know my most famous painting..."

Cascata looked at Tamblin, who shrugged.

"Is it 'Dogs Playing Poker?'" she offered hesitantly.

The Painter's expression made it clear it was not "Dogs Playing Poker."

"And to think I was going to let you through! Poseurs."

"Let us through," said Tamblin, "you mean there's something on the other side of you?"

The painter just snorted indignantly and went back to his work.

Tamblin turned to Cascata, "Dogs Playing Poker?"

She shrugged, "We have that painting at home, it was the only thing I could think of."

"Well you did better than I would have, I've never even heard of Phausto Philena."

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What?" he asked. He was beginning to think that girls were incurably bizarre.

"I've never heard of him either. The painting is signed, and I guessed it was a self portrait."

Tamblin looked back and noticed that it was indeed signed toward the bottom right corner in small curving letters. How she had noticed it was beyond him.

Cascata was looking at the painting of the underwater scene. A collection of merpeople were swimming into some sort of formation joined then by Kelpies and Grindylows. They arranged themselves into rows, Merpeople in front followed by Kelpies in horse form and then Grindylows floating in back. Each row floated slightly higher than the row before it so that at least the head of each beast was visible. Then they began to sing.

The sound was thin at first with only a few of the foremost merpeople singing. It whispered and teased at the edge of hearing. It was the sound of something forgotten that you desperately wished to remember. Then the rest of the mermaids and mermen joined in and it was the sound of something you just remembered and couldn't believe you forgot. Immediately the hissing throaty Kelpie voices and the deep coarse Grindylow voices joined and it was the sound of knowing you had forgotten something and missed an opportunity that would never come again. It was a song of the meaninglessness of life. It was a sound of hopelessness and loss.

Tamblin couldn't breathe. He knew deep down that taking another breath would only prolong this torment and stave off for a few more agonizing seconds the sweet release of death.

"Ah-hem," said Phausto from his painting. "I say would you mind singing something a tad less... sad?"

The song stopped and Tamblin shuddered as his body breathed in again. He looked at Cascata who had her face buried in her hands and was sobbing uncontrollably. Phausto was looking at them from his painting.

"Bloody singers, always wrecking the atmosphere. Oh well, it's my fault, I painted that one with too much blue in it, but how are you to paint an underwater scene without blue, I ask you."

"You painted singers," Tamblin asked.

"Of course, I told you this is the Artiste's Alcove. Painting, singing, poetry, and dancing."

As he mentioned each form he pointed in turn to each painting, stopping with the last to ogle the dancing girl unabashedly. Cascata was still pulling herself together so Tamblin pressed Phausto so as to have a reason to not notice the display of emotion.

"Why paint the singers as merpeople?"

Phausto was still staring at the dancing girl. Tamblin waived a hand in front of his canvas to get his attention.

"I said 'why paint the singers as merpeople?'"

"Artistic license," snapped Phausto and he returned to his painting.

Tamblin looked over hesitantly at Cascata. She had stopped crying and was wiping her eyes.

"Sorry," she said.

"Not at all."

"It's just I was sad earlier and that song was..."

Her voice choked off slightly.

"Anyway lets look at the other paintings," Tamblin said.

The third painting showed a small study with a comfortable writing desk, a good collection of quills and inks, a quite comfortable chair and one poet who looked thoroughly insane. He kept trying to write on the parchment in front of him but no words appeared. He continually muttered to himself and sometimes threw things around, upended his desk and scattered the quills. Then he'd neatly put everything back where it had been, think for a moment and try again to write on the parchment with an equal lack of success.

"Wait," said Cascata as she bent close to the painting.

"What is it?"

"The parchment is blank."

"Yes, I believe that's why he's so upset."

Cascata sighed, "no I mean the canvas there is bare, it's unpainted, that's why the poet can't write anything on it."

Tamblin looked closely. She was right, it wasn't just a painting of a blank parchment it was an unpainted portion of the canvas in the shape of a parchment. What's more as the poet upset his desk for the third time since they had arrived the parchment remained exactly where it was.

"Phausto, why isn't this one done?"

Phausto peeked out from around his canvas within a canvas.

"Oh well I took a little too long on the dancing girl and never got round to finishing the poet."

Cascata turned toward him.

"What do you mean never got round to it?"

"Exactly what I said, I died before I managed to finish that one."

"How did you die," she asked.

"Killed by a jealous poet. Did wonders for my guilt at leaving that one unfinished. You don't _write_ do you?"

Tamblin and Cascata shook their heads.

"filthy habit really, I mean just look at him," Phausto said, pointing at the mad poet who was just then drinking ink and it dribbled down the front of his suit. "Mind you I've thought from time to time about going over and finishing the painting so he could actually get some words on the page."

"But you're dead," Tamblin said bluntly.

"Well I am and I'm not. See what I mean?"

Tamblin and Cascata both shook their heads again.

Phausto sighed and then explained slowly, "The me that painted me died long long ago but the me that was painted by me is still here and, for lack of a better word, alive."

"You mean you can paint on a picture you are in," Tamblin asked.

"Certainly. You think I painted all those out there while alive? I should think not! In fact I spent most of my living years wooing the girlfriends of poets."

Cascata seemed to be considering something, "do you ever go out into the other paintings?" She pointed toward the bookshelf wall.

"Yes, at times, just to do touch ups you understand."

Tamblin and Cascata looked at each other and then turned to admire the Dancing Girl. She was darkly complected and quite graceful as she worked through one type of dance after another. Not all of the dances were quite as dignified as Tamblin would have preferred and Cascata blushed quite deeply at one point.

"Marvelous, isn't she," came Phausto's voice behind them. "Limber."

Tamblin looked at Cascata and rolled his eyes. She giggled and he found himself smiling.


	14. Chapter 14

Touching the "Erewhon" book served to transport them back through the bookshelf and into the library.

They made their way silently out of the library. In the hall outside Cascata turned to Tamblin.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Well that definitely helped get my mind off of things," she said.

"Oh, well I'm glad it helped."

She looked at him for a minute, "Why do you leave class all the time?"

"You noticed?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I don't know, the classes are fine, I just feel other callings, you know?"

From the look in her eyes she obviously didn't. Several students passed them on their way down to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Cascata, I don't think we should tell anyone about the alcove."

"Sure, Tamblin," she said and started to walk away.

He watched her take a dozen steps and then called after her.

"Cascata."

She stopped and looked at him.

"Would... would you like to be my... friend?"

She nodded her head and then walked away. Tamblin reflected that that had been rather easier than he had expected.

The next few weeks passed much as the ones before with the exception that in the classes Ravenclaw shared with Hufflepuff he now found Cascata sitting next to him. She seemed to have a few friends among the other Hufflepuffs but she consistently chose to sit with him and work with him in classes. As a result it was only Herbology, with the Slytherins, where he continued to regularly slip out of class. Cascata kept him in Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms; Quirrell kept him in Defense Against the Dark Arts; and his own interest kept him in History of Magic. His marks improved dramatically, and he had to give Flitwick credit: his plan had worked.

Tamblin was not the only one to benefit however. So long as he attended class he was Cascata's superior in Charms and Transfiguration and she saw her grades improve by working with him. In potions they seemed to have complementing talents. Tamblin was far more analytical while Cascata excelled at the hands on work and especially the small observations that determined when a given direction was completed successfully. Their progress was so rapid that it caused Snape to loudly comment that perhaps all Hufflepuffs just needed a Ravenclaw to be halfway competent.

During weekends he and Cascata often visited the alcove, making sure no one watched them enter and hoping no one saw them leave. Phausto however remained obstinate about letting them through to whatever chamber lay behind his portrait.

Tamblin's nights were still spent roaming the halls and grounds. One night while roaming the fourth floor he turned a hallway to find Headmaster Dumbledore walking just ahead of him. Tamblin hesitated a moment. The temptation to play the same game of following he had with Madam Pince was overpowering.

He crept after the Headmaster who seemed blissfully unaware of the small feet behind him. Dumbledore wandered through the fourth floor without any discernible purpose. After a time the Headmaster began humming a small song to himself.

From around a corner came the sound of someone running fast. Filch burst into the corridor. Tamblin shrank back against a corner.

"Caught you now... Oh, Headmaster. I'm sorry I thought... there's some students on the loose, I know it."

"I'm very sorry to disappoint you, Argus. I like to walk up here some nights. Being alone with one's shadow can be quite rewarding."

Filch seemed much more concerned with finding someone to punish than with the Headmaster's nocturnal activities. He muttered some sort of farewell and stalked back up the hallway he had emerged from.

After he was gone Dumbledore said "Well, does my shadow feel like walking more?"

Tamblin remained silent and still.

"Perhaps another night."

Dumbledore walked off in the direction of the grand staircase.


	15. Chapter 15

The Great Hall was decorated for Halloween and Tamblin thought the effect of the floating jack-o-lanterns was nice if a tad overdone. He was heading toward the Ravenclaw table when he noticed Cascata standing and talking to Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, a couple of Hufflepuff girls in her year, over by the Hufflepuff table. Instead of sitting down he threaded his way through the crowd to say hello to her. He was walking up behind Cascata when he caught part of their conversation.

"...weird, don't you think," Susan was asking Cascata.

Cascata just shook her head.

Hannah joined in, "oh come on Cassie, you saw what happened at the Sorting. And the nails creep me out."

"And the way he talks," interrupted Susan, "like he thinks he's a professor or something."

"Ravenclaws are supposed to be smart, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but he's from a whole 'nother planet," Susan said. "And you might want to hear what the Patil sisters said..."

Cascata snapped at her, "He's my FRIEND."

Hannah, who had been nodding along as Susan talked, looked taken aback and Susan stopped mid-sentence. The three of them looked at each other for another moment and then went silently to their seats. Tamblin faded back into the crowd.

He'd seen Cascata with Susan and Hannah enough to know they were all friends. Hearing Cascata defend him gave him a peculiar sensation somewhere between pride and nausea. It was certainly nice that she felt he was a friend, but the idea that she had to defend him behind his back was unsettling. He wondered if she'd be better off without him around.

He was just starting to eat when Professor Quirrell broke into the Great Hall screaming about a troll in the dungeon. The students started to panic immediately and Dumbledore called for them to return to their common rooms while the staff dealt with the troll. As Tamblin got up he saw Cascata across the room. She tried to signal him to come over but he pretended not to have seen her and hurried after Fletcher, who was leading the Ravenclaws out.

His fellow Ravenclaws jabbered excitedly about trolls and whether it was a Halloween stunt, and if so by whom. Tamblin withdrew into himself. He didn't want any contact. Once back in the common room he headed immediately up to the dormitory. Everyone else was determined to converse endlessly on matters about which they knew little or nothing.

As he lay on his bed the noise from the common room below filtered up to him. It seemed somehow a probing hunting thing that sought him out. And if it found him it would try to make him part of it, absorbed into the complications and mysteries of social interactions. He remained quiet and very still. It was still out there but it couldn't find him if he didn't want it to. He could hide.


	16. Chapter 16

In a disused classroom Tamblin found a curious thing one night: a mirror framed in gold that reflected everything in the room except him. He approached it and at length looked in it for some trace of himself but could find none. He moved a chair and saw the reflected chair move identically but without apparent cause. He spent some time watching the mirror and wondering why anyone would make a magic mirror that didn't reflect people.

He decided after a time that it really was rather soothing and he stayed the rest of the night in the classroom, only emerging when he heard the steps of others out in the hallway. The next evening he went back to see the mirror again but it was gone. He visited all the other classrooms he could find but didn't find the mirror in any of them.


	17. Chapter 17

For the next couple days he spent as little time as possible with Cascata. During their classes together he didn't speak but only answered questions with a grunt or nod. Cascata however seemed to keep fussing around him. McGonagall twice had to tell her to be quiet during a presentation on producing a pillow from one's wand.

After classes he'd hurry out and away before she could pester him more. He didn't dare visit the Alcove for fear she might corner him there. He did however lose himself in the passages of the library for hours at a time. He used this time to try and discover the name of Phausto's most famous painting, hoping that if he did find it it would mollify Phausto enough to let them...him...through.

The search hadn't been going well though. He couldn't find even one book that mentioned a painter named Phausto Philena. As he closed "Don't I know you, a history of magical portraits through the ages" he turned around to find Cascata standing there.

"Why are you mad at me," her voice was cracking and she was on the verge of tears.

Tamblin winced.

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then wh-why are you being so mean to me? I'm not doing as well in charms or transfiguration, and I got a letter from my dad, and you won't talk to m-m-me."

She was openly crying now. Tamblin cringed and felt like he was being skewered in an insect display.

"I just think maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."

"Why," she snapped more as a statement than a question.

"You might be better off..."

She cried more. And then she punched him in the shoulder.

"I'll decide what's b-best for me. If you don't want to be my friend then tell me so, to my face."

Tamblin rubbed his now sore shoulder.

"It's not that...I just don't want to cause you...problems..." he finished weakly.

Cascata sniffled and then looked at him again, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Did someone say something to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, did someone tell you I'd be better off if you weren't my friend?"

"No, no...I just happened..."

"You overheard what Hannah and Susan said." Cascata sounded like she was very sure of this conclusion.

"How'd you know?"

"I can see it in your face. You jerk! I told them you were my friend and then you go and treat me like dirt."

The skewering pin seemed to be wiggling around in Tamblin's guts looking for the most painful organ to pierce.

"You don't need me causing problems with your friends."

It looked like she was going to punch him again so he stepped back quickly.

"I know, I know, you'll decide what's best for you," he said defensively.

He thought he saw someone moving down the next aisle. He tried to remember how loud their conversation had been, and whether Madam Pince might have heard, but he couldn't. All he could remember for sure was the feeling of being impaled with guilt. He put a finger to his lips and then guided her by the hand to the Erewhon bookshelf.

It looked like Cascata had pulled herself together a bit during the minute it had taken them to reach the privacy of the Alcove. Once inside he let go of her hand.

"I missed you," she said softly.

Tamblin thought about this for a second.

"Why?"

The look she gave him suggested that this was not the right response and so he thought harder.

"I missed talking to you too," he said.

Cascata looked still somewhat annoyed but also relieved.

"Really?"

"Yes. Everything is just very complicated."

"It seemed pretty simple just being friends."

"If I was friends with you and that was it then it'd be simple but there's everyone else and it gets very tangled up and messy."

"You don't have to worry about that. Just be my friend and I'll deal with any messy tangles in my life."

"Okay," he said.

She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He couldn't remember ever being hugged before. He had a moment of claustrophobic feeling, and then relaxed. It was rather nice.


	18. Chapter 18

The following weeks passed quickly and soon it was time for the Christmas break. Tamblin had written ahead to Vlora to let her know he'd be returning. Between that, packing, and the class exams before the break he was rather busy that last Friday. It wasn't until it was time to depart that he noticed Cascata seemed depressed. They stood in the entrance hall to say goodbye and Tamblin noticed she wasn't carrying any bags.

"Aren't you packed?"

"What," she said.

"For the holiday, the train leaves soon and you aren't packed?"

"Oh, well, I'm staying here for Christmas."

"You are? But why?"

She opened her mouth but just then Filch yelled for everyone taking the train to board the horseless carriages that would pull them to the station in Hogsmeade.

Cascata smiled and said, "I'll tell you later, have a good trip."

She turned and then darted back to hug him in plain view of everyone. There were a few jeers from the other students and Tamblin felt his face flush but mostly he worried about the damp spots Cascata's face had left on his shirt. She was already darting away through the hall and Filch was demanding the students get aboard or be left. With a sigh he picked up his bag and boarded a coach filled with three other students he didn't know and had no interest in.


	19. Chapter 19

The Christmas break was fairly pleasant. Vlora doted on his return and was justifiably proud; the mansion and grounds were in fine shape. After reviewing the various aspects of the estate that Vlora had tended to and finding them in decent order Tamblin became restless. Vlora had purchased him several presents and set up the enchanted tree. It was much as Christmas had been every other year and yet it felt hollow. His thoughts often strayed to Cascata as he sat in the study at the large cherry wood desk, the amphisbaen curled in his fingers or around his wrist.

"Is the Young Master all right?"

Tamblin startled out of his reverie at the house elf's words.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Vlora?"

"I am worried about you, Young Master, you look sad."

"Not sad, just thoughtful."

"What thoughts are you full of, Master?"

"I made a friend at school."

"That's good. Do you want Vlora to send him a present for Christmas?"

"Her. And no. I don't think that'd be appropriate. Doubtless her family will provide appropriate gifts."

Tamblin stopped and looked at the house elf.

"Won't they?" he asked.

Vlora immediately nodded her head so vigorously that her long ears flipped in front of her face.

"Vlora, I want you to go through my Father's addresses and genealogies. Look for the 'Vega' family. It might be appropriate for me to invite their family over to dine some evening. I don't know her parent's names though."

Vlora looked up hopefully, "Dine at the big table?"

"Yes, if we have guests we will dine on the dining room table."

The house elf smiled hugely and ran off to follow his bidding. Tamblin meanwhile looked at the sextant on the desk. It was mounted on a round plate of bronze with various markings along the edge. The plate was affixed to a wooden base in a way so that it rotated freely. Inlaid in the wooden base was a circle of bronze with a number of symbols. Each symbol represented one of the Demosthene ancestral estates. Currently the sextant was pointed toward a circle with two 's' shaped curves through it. It was the symbol representing the mansion.

Tamblin went and closed the door to the study. He returned to the sextant and placing both hands on it began to slowly twist it so that it pointed toward an infinity symbol inside a rectangle. As he did so he had the peculiar feeling that the sextant didn't move and instead he was turning the whole office around it.

He returned to the study door, sighed, and then opened it. Outside the door was a dark cool hallway made of stone. Tapestries of considerable age hung along the hallway and showed events from his family's history. Wall sconces held flaming torches. Tamblin looked back at the study window and saw only blank stone outside the glass.

He followed the hallway past a number of recessed alcoves. He tried not to look at their contents as he passed. He turned left at the first intersection and right at the next and came to a circular room lined with the same alcoves as the hall.

"Good tidings," he said.

Immediately twenty or more ghosts swept into the room and surrounded him. They eyed him suspiciously.

"It is Christmas time again and I have come to honor the memories of my forefathers."

A severe-looking ghost to his right said, "Victhen?"

"No Grandfather, Victhen was your son, and I am his – your grandson."

"Why isn't Victhen here with us? Where is my son?" The ghost seemed to swell with anger.

"Grandfather, Victhen wasn't interred here after his death. I'm sorry. I was a child and he died under circumstances that did not permit the recovery of his body."

Every year he'd had to remind his family why his father was not among the ghosts in attendance. When he was very young they had frightened him terribly. The duty still scared him, but it was Christmas and time to assure his forefathers that the family honor was maintained.

The ghosts now presented themselves one by one to him. Tamblin had to recognize them and recite their name and titles to appease them. If he made mistakes the offended ghost would roar and curse him for his familial betrayal. But he did not often make a mistake.

Once the recognition was finished he recited a short oath to the family traditions and honor.

"Is there aught more I can do in the name of my family?"

The ghosts did not reply but faded back to their cadaverous homes. Tamblin wasn't sure quite where the family mausoleum was located. He had only ever visited it through the sextant's magic. He did know that it seemed to stretch on for miles with many rooms similar to the one he stood in. He wondered if there were other distant relations who came to appease those ghosts. Or maybe the ghosts were now angry and depraved from being neglected. He'd read in the family histories over and over the lesson that the forefathers must be appeased, and that the new generation must have children to carry on and appease them in turn. He would one day reside within these walls and his own children would have to come every Christmas.

But his father was not here. He would not lay in the family tomb, not be appeased, but also not face madness should the family line be broken. Tamblin wondered if that was to be envied or pitied.


	20. Chapter 20

Having returned the study to the mansion Tamblin reflected quietly on the family until thoughts of Cascata intruded again. Why wasn't she returning home? She was very concerned with her marks, but since they had reconciled that little misunderstanding she'd benefited from his help and her scores had bounced back up. Surely she didn't think she needed to spend the holiday practicing. When he thought about it he realized she seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time being just...sad. From the very day he'd met her weeping in the library he'd often noticed she had red puffy eyes in their shared classes.

"Master?"

"Yes, Vlora."

"I can't find any reference to Vega family in the address books or genealogies."

"Very well, thank you Vlora, you may prepare dinner now. I've visited the family crypt. And, Vlora, I'll take my dinner in the study as usual."


	21. Chapter 21

The break seemed to plod along weighed down by his concerns and inability to do anything regarding them while still at home. He knew he could return to Hogwarts early, but it seemed undignified plus the best route to get him there was not a method he'd use except for an emergency. Instead he'd wait for the train like all the other students.

His Christmas presents were well chosen and unsurprising. Vlora never had much creativity when it came to such things. New robes, new shoes, new shirts, new socks, new pants. The perfectly serviceable old clothes were hung in his closet and the new clothes packed in his bag for the return to Hogwarts.

Another taxi awaited to take him to the station. Last time he'd felt slightly giddy at the thought of a new adventure. Now he was simply nervous at the impending return to Hogwarts and the final resolution of a mystery that had occupied him for the holiday.

Platform 9 ¾ was just as crowded as last time, more so if one included all the thick padding parents and children wore to keep warm. The press to get on the train and out of the cold was fiercer this time than last and it was some time before Tamblin got aboard. When he did he had to look through one compartment after another to find an empty seat.

He opened a compartment door to find an empty seat right next to Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. Tamblin hesitated. Susan looked up at him.

"You can sit here," she said pointing to the space next to her. Hannah nodded.

The opposite bench was filled with three Hufflepuff boys. One was in their year and the other two were in their second year at Hogwarts. Tamblin sat down next to Susan and wondered what was going on. Mostly the Hufflepuffs traded stories of the Christmas break and various presents. From time to time Susan would turn to Tamblin and ask him something, seemingly trying to draw him into the conversation. His responses were polite but short.

When the trolley came along he again bought snacks for the compartment. Susan and Hannah both thanked him graciously and the Hufflepuff boys smiled too. Tamblin wanted very much to ask Susan and Hannah about why Cascata didn't return home but he didn't trust their motives.

At last the train pulled into Hogsmeade and Tamblin had to admit that if there was some intended trick he couldn't see it. The Hufflepuff boys left the compartment followed shortly by Hannah. As Susan started to leave Tamblin touched her arm. She turned around to look at him.

"Why did you ask me to sit down?"

"Cassie says you're her friend."

"But you don't like me."

"You're her friend. So am I."

Hannah had come back to see what was keeping Susan. As she poked her head in Susan turned around and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Let's go, Hannah."

Tamblin stood there a moment to let this all sink in. He then had to hurry off the train before it left again. The carriages delivered them to the entrance hall and everyone quickly bustled their bags into the warmth of the castle. Inside the students started making for the various common rooms and dormitories to settle back in.

As Tamblin headed toward the Ravenclaw armor he saw Cascata peek out of the library and signal to him. He asked Stewart Ackerly, who lived in his dorm, to take his bags up for him and then he headed for the library. Inside he saw Cascata heading toward one of the study areas and he followed her.

Once there she leaned conspiratorially toward him and whispered, "I've got some good news!"

"Wait, what happened? Why didn't you go home?"

Her face lost the excited grin she'd had.

"Oh that. I got a letter from my father. He thought I might be better off staying at the school through the break."

"But why? And what about your mother?"

"My mother's dead. My dad remarried a couple of years ago. She's a muggle too."

"What do you mean 'a muggle too'?"

"My dad's a muggle. Mom was a witch. After she died he didn't seem to want anything to do with magic anymore. And when I got the note for Hogwarts...it's not like he abandoned me, he helped me get the stuff I'd need for school but..."

She was getting close to tears again.

"He made it clear he thought it would be better for me to stay at the school from now on."

She moved close to Tamblin and hugged him. Tamblin was too shocked to do much more than stand there.

"I think I sort of remind him of mom and it's hard for him to deal with. I had hoped that after some time away he'd want me back for Christmas but I got a letter from him..."

Tamblin would never have suspected his friend might be from a mixed family. He knew there was nothing wrong with muggles or with mixed families per se, but they were a different caste than the pureblood families. And he had been firmly told that mixing amongst other castes was poor behavior.

Cascata sobbed against his shoulder. He stood rigidly still for a moment and then put his arms around her and stroked her hair. She was his friend and she was upset. She cried for a while and then straightened up and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. I knew things were upsetting you and I never asked. I should have."

"I'm glad you're back."

"Out of curiosity, did you say anything to Susan or Hannah after..."

"After our fight?"

"Yes."

"No, why?"

"No reason. What was your exciting news?"

She smiled again, "I figured out how to get into the Artiste's Alcove."


	22. Chapter 22

They quickly climbed the stairs together to the Divination tower. Cascata had refused to say any more until she could show him.

At a landing she stopped, somewhat out of breath, and pointed toward a painting hung to one side. It showed a bull-bodied creature with a vaguely mannish face. As Tamblin looked at it, it snuffed and pawed at the ground menacingly.

He turned back to Cascata.

"Does it...look...familiar?" she said still panting slightly.

"Not really, no."

"Think carefully."

Tamblin still thought he'd never seen it before in his life.

"No, sorry."

"It's one of the paintings in the background of the self portrait."

"Okay."

"Look at the signature."

It was signed MLC3. Tamblin again looked quizzically at Cascata.

"He used a fake name. Phausto didn't sign his paintings with his own name, except for his self portrait since everyone would know it was him anyway. I was up here and I thought I recognized this painting from his self portrait and I was right."

"Why were you up in the Divination Tower?"

"That doesn't matter right now! The point is that I had the initials he painted under. It took a while but I found in the library references to 'Magnus Lombard Chesterfield III,' who painted many of the paintings in Hogwarts."

"Magnus Lombard Chesterfield III?"

She giggled, "I know, isn't it terrible?"

"Awful."

"Then all I had to do was find out what his most famous painting was. And if you think the name is bad you should see 'Animals Made of Things.' Yeuch. It makes 'Dogs Playing Poker' look brilliant."

"So what's past the painting?" he asked.

She had a blank look.

"I don't know. I waited for you to get back."

"You did?"

She nodded.

"It's getting late. I need to go to the Owlery real quick anyway and we need to get down to the great hall for some food. Why don't we plan to go inside tomorrow?"

She smiled and gave him another quick hug.

"Okay, goodnight. Welcome back."

"Thanks."

She bounded away down the stairs. Tamblin took one last look at the Bull creature who had laid down himself for a quick snooze. Then he headed to the Owlery to pen a quick note to Vlora.

After a filling meal he trudged upstairs to bed and fell asleep almost immediately, and unlike most nights he actually slept until morning.


	23. Chapter 23

Tamblin woke to a grey Sunday morning. His fellow Ravenclaws were already out of bed and pursuing whatever fancies took them on the last day before classes resumed.

After a few moments of savoring the warmth of the blankets Tamblin got up and dressed. The common room held a few Ravenclaws who sat near the central hearth, talking or reading. He passed the Library entrance and was reminded that Cascata had stayed at Hogwarts all break and had not given in to temptation and opened the Alcove. And she'd done it because she was waiting for him to return. He wasn't sure he could have shown such patience. He passed down the staircases and into the Great Hall. The ceiling showed an unrelenting grey sky with just a hint of snowflakes. The hall was quiet; most students had evidently already eaten. At the Ravenclaw table he saw only Padma. She gave him a sour look and he sat far down the bench from her.

Seeing Padma reminded him of the incident with the Malfoy boy. In retrospect after Cascata's revelation about her parents it was becoming clear why the Patil sisters had reacted so poorly to his attempt to help. Tamblin looked down the bench, thinking he'd have to apologize, but Padma was already leaving the Great Hall. While he ate, a school owl, the same one he'd sent out last night, made its way through the Great Hall. It circled the room several times before noticing him. As it landed in front of him he could see the long thin parcel in its claws. He examined the parcel and its wrapping and then tucked it into an inside pocket of his robes.

Cascata wasn't at the Hufflepuff table so he dashed down the rest of his breakfast and left for the library to find her. He located Madam Pince in the northernmost annex and then swept back until he found Cascata in the same study area she'd been in the first time they met.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded and they made their way to the bookcase that hid the entrance. They glanced nervously at each other and then reached out to touch "Erewhon" simultaneously. The disorientation of transport through the book was getting easier and both of them managed to land on their knees instead of flat on their faces. They were not, however, alone.

As they staggered to their feet they looked up into the eyes of two identical older male students. They wore Gryffindor robes and had bright red hair.

"Bout time you two showed up-" started the first.

"-we were getting tired of waiting for you," finished the second.

"It's a nice place you got here-"

"-you don't mind if we use it to store-"

"-a few things do you?"

Tamblin looked back and forth between them.

"Hey it's no nevermind-"

"-to us what you sneak-"

"-off here to do," and the twin winked knowingly. Cascata looked decidedly pink.

"We're not the types-"

"-who can begrudge someone a few-"

"-secrets after all, we just need to stash the stuff we lifted from-"

"-a certain groundskeeper's office."

"You stole stuff from Filch?" Tamblin asked.

"So that's his name," said the first twin to the second.

"Funny, he always introduces-"

"-himself as 'Comebackhere Youweasleyrotters."

"So what do you say-"

"-mind if we leave the stuff here?"

Tamblin looked at Cascata. She was standing open-mouthed and staring at the twins.

"Sure you can leave it here."

"Brilliant decision kid-"

"-you won't regret it."

"How did you find out about it though?"

"Oh we keep a close eye on the comings-"

"-and goings round here."

"You never know when a 'goings' will come in handy."

His brother nodded.

"Oh, one last thing-"

"-some of the boxes are our stuff-"

"-so keep your mitts off-"

"-and don't say we didn't warn you." He patted one of the half dozen boxes that were now against one of the blank walls of the Alcove and smiled. The first twin beamed at Tamblin while the second one gave Cascata another wink and then they reached for the bookshelf and disappeared.

"Hooligans," said Phausto from his painting.

Cascata finally found her voice. "That was strange," she said.

"Are you okay?" Tamblin asked.

"Yeah, sure. Why do you ask?"

"You just look flushed."

"I'm fine," she insisted and turned to look at Phausto's portrait.

"Phausto..." she said sweetly.

"Yes, what do you want?"

"We were just hoping you could let us through," she said.

"Absolutely not."

"But we do so appreciate fine art, we were just marveling at one called 'Animals Made of Things.'"

Phausto poked his head out from behind his canvas.

"You were, were you?"

"Oh yes it was...just majestic."

Tamblin watched with some interest as Cascata buttered up Phausto. He had to carefully remain calm and not laugh as she described in detail the wonders of a painting of animals made out of various household objects, foods, and shrubbery.

"Well the choice of a skillet for the elephant's head was absolutely genius," she said.

"The painting was perhaps inspired by the fickle muses of creation."

"Oh no it was amazing, almost a spiritual event."

"Don't...stop...no really don't stop..."

Cascata elbowed Tamblin when he accidentally let slip a small snort.

"I just can't believe the talent of this 'Magnus Lombard Chesterfield the third'."

Phausto smiled broadly and looked quickly around.

"I'll tell you a secret child. Magnus was a Nom de Plume. I painted 'Animals Made of Things.'"

"You? Really? I mean I knew you were so very talented when I saw your self portrait, and these other paintings, but I had no idea..."

She clasped her hands behind her back and raised herself on the balls of her feet.

Phausto laughed, "All right you can drop the act: you win. I'll let you through; after that performance I can hardly deny you."

Cascata smirked at Tamblin and her eyebrows jumped up and back down.

The edge of the self portrait unsealed from the wall, and swung like a door toward them; beyond it was the exact room depicted in the painting. It was a studio filled with canvases, easels, brushes, various dyes and paints, and the odd half column half bowl that they'd seen in the back of the portrait. Some of the canvases laying about were finished paintings, the rest were blanks.

Tamblin and Cascata stepped through into the room and as they did so the painting swung shut behind them. Turning around they could see that the other side of the painting was also painted. It was again this room and Phausto, but from the point of view of the back of the room looking out toward the Alcove entrance. Phausto beamed at them from this side of the painting.

"Like it?"

"Yes," they both said at the same time.

"Good; now I must ask you two favors. I ask the same two of everyone who finds their way in here."

"There have been others?" asked Tamblin.

"Oh yes, every couple of decades some inspiration leads my work to be rediscovered. The first favor is that there are some finished paintings over there." He pointed. "I want you to deliver those to the Headmaster, who will of course want very much to see them hung around the castle. The second favor is more difficult. I can't paint more until those blank canvases are dipped in the potion we use for painting magical paintings. I need you to treat some more of the canvases so I can paint them between now and whenever the next tour group comes through here."

"What potion is it?" asked Cascata.

"Well, I don't exactly know. Was never good at such things, you understand of course how getting bogged down in details can ruin one's ability to see the big picture. I'm sure you can find out though. Just find out the potion and bring the ingredients back here. And don't forget to deliver the paintings!"

Tamblin wandered around the studio poking into the various objects. He eventually stopped at the strange structure at the back of the room. It was a pillar about three feet high and apparently built directly into the stones of the floor. The top of the pillar widened out into a basin about a foot deep. The basin was empty and plain except for a small metal stud on one side. Cascata joined him in examining the object.

"Phausto," Tamblin called, "what is this?"

"Alchemirand."

"What does it do?"

"You'll see, you'll see."

Tamblin looked at Cascata who shrugged. They continued poking through the odds and ends of the painting studio until their curiosity was satisfied. Cascata then turned to Tamblin.

"I think you should ask Snape about the potion."

"I suppose we'll have to, but why me?"

"He kind of scares me," she said.

"Okay, and you'll take the paintings to Dumbledore?"

"Well..."

"Oh come on Cascata, you're telling me Dumbledore scares you too?"

"I didn't say he scared me, he just makes me nervous. I mean he is the most powerful wizard in the world. That's what people say. Besides, Hannah needs my help with something today."

"All right, I'll take the paintings to Dumbledore, and tomorrow after potions class I'll ask Snape. But you have to do something for me."

"What?" she asked as she rummaged through the finished paintings.

"Open this," he said pulling the thin box from the inside robe pocket.

She turned and saw the silver-wrapped box with the blue ribbon.

"Merry Christmas," Tamblin said.

It took a second for the meaning to register and then she blushed.

"You got me a present? You shouldn't have."

"Oh well if you don't want it you can always talk to Snape instead."

He started tipping the present back and forth. "Snape...present...Snape...present..."

Cascata snatched the box from his hand. Gently she untied the ribbon and put it in her pocket. The silver paper opened at the ends and she slid out the box inside. It was long and thin and made of a dark blue velvet material. It had a hinge on one side and Cascata glanced up at Tamblin with something like alarm. Then she looked back at the box and slowly opened it.

She gasped and her free hand flew to her mouth. Tamblin gently reached into the box and withdrew the gold necklace, holding it up to the light so she could see it.

"It was made by Mircea the Second, of Wallachia for his concubine. The gold came from the local mines in the Carpathian Mountains. The black star sapphire in the central setting is something of a mystery as there are no known sources of them anywhere near Romania. It may however have come from Cambodia as a part of a merchant expedition. The smaller inlaid stones are sheen obsidian and from the Eolie Islands off Italy. That's what made me think of you originally, your name is Italian."

Her voice was very weak, "My dad is Italian."

"It came into my family a few generations later by marriage as part of a dowry. I'm afraid that's all I know about it, oh except that it's been refitted with a more modern clasp, the original broke some years ago."

He started to draw the ends of the necklace toward her and she took a step back.

"I couldn't...it's...it's just too much..."

"I insist," Tamblin said and moved closer.

Cascata stood very still as he fastened the necklace around her neck. Once he was done she didn't look down at it but put her hand on it to feel it. Tamblin was starting to get worried about her state of shock.

"Do you like it?" he asked, concerned.

"I've seen better," said Phausto from the portrait.

Tamblin glared at him.

Cascata said, "I've never seen anything so beautiful."

Phausto piped up again, "it compliments you well; the gold and black look good with your tanned skin tone."

Tamblin said, "Thank you, Phausto."

"I just admire good composition," he muttered and went back to his painting.

Cascata was looking down at the necklace now but she still had one hand on it as if to be sure it was real.

"I didn't get any Christmas presents from my family."

Tamblin looked away from her eyes, which seemed to be getting brighter and brighter.

"I suspected after what you told me about your father's views."

"Hannah and Susan got me a couple small things with some of their Christmas money but this..."

She paused to take a shaking breath.

"I can't, Tamblin, it must be worth a fortune, and you said it'd been in your family for a while, and we just met a few weeks ago, and I didn't get you anything..."

"It is very precious, and I want you to have it. I am the last of my family branch and I can dispense with the family holdings as I see fit. Besides it does look very good on you, much better there than in a dusty drawer."

She was blushing furiously.

"You really want me to have...this?"

"Yes. Merry Christmas."

She threw herself toward him and hugged him tightly. And he thought he felt for just a second her lips brush his cheek. Then she let go suddenly and ran toward the painting. Phausto shouted as she jerked it open and ran through, causing him to smear a brushstroke on his canvas within a canvas. Now Phausto glared at Tamblin.

"She probably just needed to go cry."


	24. Chapter 24

Tamblin knocked on Professor Flitwick's door.

"Come in!"

Opening the door Tamblin found the place just as cluttered and busy as before, although the various piles of things had rearranged their positions within the office. He ducked under a book that flew over him and out the door before he could shut it. Flitwick was standing on his desk with his wand out trying to get a number of other books to return to the bookshelf, which was itself slowly sidling away from him.

"Professor Flitwick?"

"Yes, Tamblin, what can I do for you? Oh and I hear good things about your marks from the other teachers. Keep it up m'boy, keep it up!"

"Thank you, sir. I need to see the Headmaster, how do I arrange it?"

Flitwick stopped stunning the books and looked at him carefully.

"Why would you need to see Dumbledore, lad?"

"I have something I'm supposed to give him."

"Very well, I'll give you the directions..."

Ten minutes later Tamblin made his way to the hidden studio and retrieved the finished paintings.


	25. Chapter 25

The finished paintings kept squirming in his hands as he carried them up the stairs. As he reached the second floor landing, a painting of a centaur wearing a bonnet suddenly bucked in his arms and spilled the whole lot. Picking them back up he was surprised by another first year student. The boy wore Slytherin robes and had a slightly wholesome look to his face. He held the errant centaur portrait in his hands.

"Can I help you?" he asked earnestly.

Tamblin hesitated just a moment.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"Not at all," the boy said as he placed the centaur on top of the stack that Tamblin barely had under control. The Slytherin boy then took one side of the stack. With two people it was much easier.

"My name is Nott."

"I know of your family," Tamblin said automatically.

The boy's eyebrow arched slightly.

"Demosthene, Tamblin."

The slightest light passed through the other boy's eyes.

"Ah, yes. Our families move in similar circles."

Tamblin could feel the other boy's eyes measuring him minutely as they climbed step after step.

"Shame, really," Nott said after several minutes of silence.

Tamblin looked at the boy but he was looking down at the paintings.

"Pardon?"

"A waste of potential," he said.

Tamblin wasn't sure if Nott meant the painting or himself.

"You don't care for the style?"

"That's not what I meant."

They reached the third floor landing and stopped, setting the wriggling canvases down.

"Where are you taking them?"

"Dumbledore's office."

An immediate coolness passed through Nott's features.

"Well I can get you part of the way, but you'll have to go to the end alone."

Tamblin felt a predatory awareness pass through him. Nott was saying something mundane, but he meant something else too. Nott was pureblooded, from a wealthy family, and subtle. He was everything Tamblin had been trained to be wary of as the scion of a wealthy pureblood family.

Nott was holding the centaur picture again.

"The style is fine, but the potential is still lost."

"How do you mean?" A guarded tone had crept into Tamblin's voice, but if Nott noticed he didn't comment.

Nott looked at him.

"The blank page can be anything. But now this," he tilted his head toward the painting while his eyes stayed on Tamblin," is all it will, or can, ever be."

He threw the bonneted centaur on top of the other paintings and picked the stack up. Tamblin took the other end and they continued up toward Dumbledore's office. Nott was silent until they reached the seventh floor.

"We're all canvases, Tamblin. Try not to let them paint you too soon. This is where I leave you."

Tamblin took the full weight of the paintings. Nott was just a flash of black and green disappearing around a corner. He made a mental note to write Vlora. He'd have to brush up on the Nott family history and holdings.


	26. Chapter 26

"Acid drop," he said to the gargoyle.

It leapt to the side revealing a moving staircase. He took this up in a spiral to a simple door.

As he started to knock a voice called, "Come in."

Inside the office was very cluttered with objects of all sorts. The walls were lined with portraits of wizards and witches. And behind a desk sat Dumbledore. He looked over his half moon spectacles at Tamblin.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Demosthene. How nice to see you by the light of day."

"Thank you, sir. I was supposed to bring these to you."

He laid the stack of canvases on the floor as the desk had far too many things on it already.

"They're from...ahem...Magnus Lombard Chesterfield the third."

Dumbledore looked down on them.

"So they are. Well please assure my dear Magnus that they will be hung with great care and attention to the aesthetics of the room in question. Was there anything else?"

"No. Yes. Sir, do you know Cascata Vega?"

"A Hufflepuff student in your year as memory serves."

"Yes she is, sir. She's had an issue with her family."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Ah, yes. I received a letter from her father at the beginning of the term. He seemed keen to know if she might reside here from now on."

"Sir, can't you do something about this?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"It's not my place to instruct a father to value his daughter. Nor is he likely to take my opinions with weight given his views of the magical world. Mr. Vega will learn his folly, or won't, either way it is out of my hands. My concern is with Cascata. I can offer her shelter and sustenance within this castle since her rightful guardian has seen fit to ask it of me. For more than that I can only hope her friends will see her through."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for delivering the paintings, Tamblin. Good day."

Tamblin left the office relieved of one burden but not the other.


	27. Chapter 27

The next day he saw Cascata in Potions class. They sat together as usual. After working on the assigned portion for ten minutes she casually remarked, "I'm wearing the necklace."

Tamblin found himself smiling slightly.

"I couldn't wear it openly so I put it on under my robe."

Tamblin got a funny warm feeling.

"Well whatever makes you happy."

"You did."

"What?"

"You did make me happy. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Perhaps that potion would look the right color if you two stopped whispering and paid attention."

Snape had come up behind them while they talked. Their potion of course was not up to his high standards. They hurried to complete the instructions and nearly had their burn healing paste ready when Snape called for time.

"Those who have managed to complete the assignment will take their samples to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. The rest of you," he paused to look around, "most of you will clean out the failures from your cauldrons. But first your homework assignment."

He pointed his wand at a chalk board that then flipped around.

"Between now and the end of the term you will brew, on your own, the Finis-dram. I've labored to find a potion so exceedingly harmless to brew that even this year's students might manage it without fatality. You will have to procure the reagents yourself and brew them to make a successful potion. Since you have several months I expect at least half of you to succeed. Disappointing me would be ill-advised."

The class room started to fill with groans about how to find the ingredients, prepare them, and brew the potion on their own time. Cascata and Tamblin quickly scraped the pinkish mess out of their cauldron and into the waste. As she gathered her belongings Cascata nudged Tamblin and nodded toward Snape. Then she quickly retreated out the door.

Tamblin slowly approached Professor Snape. When Snape paid no attention to him he very slightly coughed.

"What is it?"

"Professor, I had a question about the paintings. What potion is it they use to let them move?"

"Do you see the large rectangular thing over there, Mr. Demosthene?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good, it's called 'a book case.' Do you further see the smaller rectangular things on the large rectangular thing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you aware that they are called 'books'?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see, so then you have no excuse for wasting my time asking questions for which you are well equipped to find the answers, do you?"

"No, sir."

"I think perhaps you should look up 'Animuserum' in 'Magical Drafts and Potions' that's again one of the small rectangular things. And once you finish looking it up why don't you write me a detailed description of the potion's history, ingredients, and procedure for brewing. That will be all."

"Yes, sir."

On his way up out of the dungeon he fumed over Snape's manner. It was most unbecoming to a Professor at an institute like this to belittle his pupils for wanting to learn. Cascata waited for him at the entrance to the dungeons.

"How'd it go?" she asked nervously.

"It's Animuserum. I have to write an essay on the topic tonight."

She cocked her head.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Do you want me to help?"

"No I'd rather not have my work doubled."

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage and he ran off down the hall with her chasing closely behind.


	28. Chapter 28

_Animuserum can be recognized by the name to be an invention of Paraclesus, also the inventor of Veritaserum. Animuserum was primarily used on special glazes that applied to pottery could create moving artworks. The process however was adaptable and through the ages has been applied to everything from photography to the creation of astronomical charts that update themselves..._


	29. Chapter 29

Tamblin looked up from his paper. Cascata lay face down on a book in the seat adjoining his. He noticed for the first time that her black hair was shot through with strands of copper and gold that caught the light sometimes. He nudged her gently and she started awake.

"whum, I was just resting for a minute. I...I got the ingredients here...somewhere..."

"Go to bed."

"Are we done?"

"No, but I can't read my copy of 'Magical Drafts and Potions' when you are sleeping on it."

"I'm sorry," she sounded as if she were falling asleep again.

"It's okay, just go to bed." She got up and staggered off. Shortly afterward Tamblin gave it up as a lost cause and headed off toward his own common room. He figured he'd finish up the next day when he should be in Herbology.


	30. Chapter 30

He had just finished up the essay for Snape and a separate list of ingredients and directions for brewing for himself when it was time to go to Charms. Cascata immediately wanted to know if she could help him finish the essay.

"Finished it already."

She actually looked somewhat disappointed.

"I have a list of ingredients, nothing too exotic. I'm sure I can get them," he said.

"Don't forget the Jarvey marrow and Widowmaid."

"The what?"

"For Snape's homework assignment, we have to make the Finis-dram. I looked it up and it's Jarvey marrow and Widowmaid."

"That's right, I was focused on the Animuserum."

"The brewing procedure is kind of complicated too," she said. "Do you think it's okay if we work on it together?"

"I don't see why not. If I can get the reagents in time we might work on both this weekend," he said.

"Okay but my match against Gryffindor is this weekend."

"Your match?"

"You know what I mean, the Hufflepuff team against Gryffindor."

"Ah yes, quidditch. I don't see why you bother."

"Gryffindor is playing really well this year, my team needs all the cheering it can get. You'd feel differently if it were Ravenclaw playing."

"No I wouldn't, as evidenced by the fact that I didn't even know there was a game much less who was playing until you mentioned it."

Cascata stuck her tongue out at him.

After Charms he went to the Owlery to pen another letter to Vlora instructing her to get a list of ingredients from the house's reagent stock. The next morning another package arrived for him at breakfast. It included ample amounts of what he'd need to brew both potions except the Widowmaid. A note included said that Vlora had searched high and low in the house and found none. Tamblin had Herbology again and might have to attend so as to ask Professor Sprout where to acquire some.


	31. Chapter 31

"Widowmaid? Who would have guessed it'd be so popular," Sprout trilled when Tamblin approached her in the middle of the class.

"Professor Snape assigned us a project that requires it, Ma'am."

"Well your best bet is to get it from Professor Snape himself. The only supply is in the Dark Forest and that's far too dangerous for first years. I'd grow it here but I don't have the right...ah...fertilizer."

"Can you tell me what it looks like, Professor?"

"But we talked about it last week, surely you remember?" Her brow furrowed and she had the distinct look of someone trying to place a name she couldn't remember.

"Ah...yes, of course. Thank you, Professor." A few minutes later Tamblin slipped out of the class and up to the castle to read up on where to find Widowmaid and what it looked like.


	32. Chapter 32

"Figure out where to get it yet?" Cascata asked when she found him in the library.

"Um...yes."

"Where?"

"It grows...in the Dark Forest."

Her face fell.

"How are we supposed to get it then? It's off limits to first years. Leave it to Snape to assign something he knows will get us in trouble."

"I can get it. But it grows..."

"What?"

"It grows in centaur... dung."

Cascata stared a second and then exploded with laughter.

"Thanks."

She kept laughing until her eyes teared up and her face grew a deep red.

"I'm sorry, just the image of you being so brave as to sneak out of the castle and into the Dark Forest and then having to stick your hand in a pile of poop was..."

She started to lose it again. And she thought he was brave.

"I'm glad to have entertained you."

He noticed as they left the library that she put a hand to her collarbone, as if feeling something under her robe.


	33. Chapter 33

When he said he could get it from the Dark forest it hadn't been an idle boast. He'd slowly worked up the nerve to travel the Forbidden Forest during his night time excursions. Each time he'd gone slightly further, flitting from shadow to shadow. Often he hid from Centaurs and other beasts of the woods. And once he had sensed rather than seen something that crept through the forest past him. He had frozen perfectly still but he thought the thing might have known he was there anyway. He never carried a light as his night vision was excellent and he had to remain hidden.

Slipping out of the Ravenclaw tower was easy and he made his way down the grand staircase and out the great hall without being noticed, as always.

The night was very cold and clear. As he worked his way into the forest he heard a faint intermittent music from within the woods. Curiosity won out and he followed it along a path he'd not yet explored. At times the music ceased and he had to wait with his head cocked to catch some strain of it again. Eventually he could see a glow from up ahead. There in a clearing he saw a large wooden pen surrounded by torches. Within the pen was a large lion bodied creature with the face of a man and a scorpions stinger. Oddly the Manticore appeared to be charred in several places and the floor of the pen appeared to be littered with what looked like broken pottery. Outside the Pen stood the hill man, Hagrid, playing on a fiddle. He played it not too badly given the huge mitts with which he had to work. After playing for a while he worked a lever that pushed something else into the pen. It was hard to see because it was squat and low to the ground. The Manticore growled and pounced on the creature which launched one burst of bright flame high into the air. It was a fire crab the Manticore pounced on and greedily devoured.

"Mathilda, no' ag'in," Hagrid cried out.

What had appeared to be broken pottery scattered in the pen was now revealed to be fire crab carapace. Judging by the amount of carapace and the porcine look of the Manticore The hill man had been at this for some time. Once the Manticore finished off the crab Hagrid began again with the fiddle music.

Tamblin watched the cycle repeat twice more before he realized he was standing in the open and paying no attention to his surroundings. Quickly he retreated into the shadows and froze. He waited several minutes to make sure nothing was stalking him. All the while he felt a great upwelling of self recrimination. It was unbelievably stupid for him to lose his sense of place like that. That could get him caught in the castle or killed in the forest.

Once he was sure that none of the denizens of the forest had capitalized on his inattention he backtracked to where several centaur trails crossed the one to Hagrid's...pen. There were a great many hoof-prints trampled over each other. He followed the trails for a while until he found an area they had used for a rest stop.

Amongst the offal he saw a number of small dark green plants with a thin stem and a single diamond shaped leaf at the top. Carefully stepping among the piles he pulled out a handful of these plants taking care to tug them gently so that the roots pulled free from the dung and came with the plant. Then he retraced his steps, making only a small detour to wash the Widowmaid off in a stream before working his way back up to the Ravenclaw common room unseen by creature or prefect.

The next morning he took all the reagents for both potions down and deposited them in the studio behind Phausto's painting. He also set up the various brewing equipment they would need. He was of course ditching Herbology so Cascata was busy in class and the actual brewing would have to wait.


	34. Chapter 34

Cascata was eager to hear all about his trip into the Dark Forest, and refused to believe he'd had a closer brush with bizarre-ness than with danger. Other than having to describe the trip to her several times the next few days were uneventful. Everyone was settling back into the routine after the Christmas break. Tamblin went out exploring most nights, although he chose to stay within the castle given the temperature outside.

On Friday night he was exploring the third floor and marveling that no matter how much of the castle he wandered there always seemed to be more of it. He opened a door softly, started to step through, and froze. Six large, in fact down right monstrous, eyes were looking at him. They had seen him, Tamblin could feel it. But the creatures hadn't quite decided what he was yet. He heard a canine snuffling sound and the creatures began to get closer. Very slowly Tamblin eased his hand back to the door prepared to slam it shut before the things reached him. As it got closer he saw the six eyes were on three heads but only one body between them. It was a three headed dog large enough to swallow Tamblin whole. The dog padded closer to the door. Tamblin doubted it could fit more than one of its heads through the doorway. The dog paused just as Tamblin's hand closed on the door handle. The dog's lips pulled back revealing huge fangs as it growled and leapt toward Tamblin. He slammed the door as hard as he could and it just clicked shut before shuddering with the awful impact of the beast on the other side. The violence of that crash knocked Tamblin down and away from the door.

Tamblin's heart had remained very quiet and still the whole time the dog had watched him but now it thundered painfully in his chest and he had to take great shaking breaths. The dog had let out a single loud bark but didn't try to break the door down. Reluctantly Tamblin picked himself up off the floor and snuck away before Filch or some prefect investigated. He wondered why the Dark Forest was off limits when such powerful beasts were kept in the castle.


	35. Chapter 35

When Tamblin told Cascata about the dog she had gotten clearly annoyed.

"Alright already. I believe you about the Dark Forest," she said.

"What?"

"I believe you that nothing dangerous happened, okay? You don't have make fun of me."

"Make fun of you?"

"You know what I mean. Making up a story about some monster in the castle. Pretending the castle is more dangerous than the forest. Ha, ha, very funny."

Tamblin had a very blank look on his face.

"I'm not falling for it, so just forget it. Like the teachers would let some student eating creature live in the castle."

Tamblin shrugged. If she wouldn't believe there was a beast worse than any he'd seen in the Dark Forest on the third floor then she wouldn't believe it.

"Well I'm off to see the Quidditch match," she said coolly and walked away.

Tamblin watched her go with something in between annoyance and confusion.


	36. Chapter 36

Tamblin waited in the Artiste's Alcove for Cascata to get back from her silly game. It took a lot less time than he had expected. He was wondering if it might be worthwhile bringing some chairs to the Alcove for just this sort of thing, and trying figure out an inconspicuous way to get them in when Cascata was flung into the room.

"How was-" Tamblin stopped as she stood up and he could see she was scowling. "Ah nevermind."

But she told him anyway about how thoroughly the Hufflepuffs had been crushed and how she didn't like that "Potter" boy.

Tamblin tried to make the appropriate noises at the appropriate times even though he had no idea what half of what she said meant. He was tempted to rub it in after her strange behavior earlier but he figured she was miserable enough already without any help from him. As soon as he could without seeming impolite he steered her toward Phausto's painting and into the studio.

"Which potion should we do first," He asked.

"I don't care."

"How about the Animuserum?"

"Fine," she said.

"Cascata, please, these are difficult potions, and I need you to focus. I can't do them without your help."

"I am focusing."

"No, you're pouting."

"I'm not pouting!"

"Look I'm very sorry your team didn't win the stupid little game. Okay? Can we please get to work now?"

It wasn't the right thing to say.

"You don't understand. You can't understand."

"Understand what?"

"You're a Ravenclaw. You're smart. All the Ravenclaws are smart. And the Gryffindors are brave..."

"And the Slytherin are ruthless. What's your point?"

"You don't know what it's like being a Hufflepuff. How people make fun of us. They know we aren't smart, or brave, or even ruthless. We're...we're just _the left overs_! Nobody wants to be a Hufflepuff. It's the house you get stuck with."

Tamblin wasn't sure what to say and Cascata didn't seem inclined to give him the chance anyway.

"You don't go around hearing all the things people say about your house because they don't say things about _your_ house."

She seemed to have run out of steam. Tamblin waited a second to make sure before he tried to say something.

"I'm very sorry that other people don't appreciate Hufflepuff. There's not much I can do about it except to say that I am very glad to have made friends with a Hufflepuff student. Furthermore, Hufflepuff is not, despite what _some_ may think, the house of last resort. It is not a guarantee that you are dumb or cowardly. It's only a statement that you are loyal and hard working."

"I wish I had been sorted into another house."

"I don't think it really matters. You are who you are. The house is just a trapping. It's a robe that you put on, but you stay the same underneath. And I like you very much."

"Thanks."

She looked like she was calming down. Perhaps she just needed to get that off her chest, Tamblin thought.

She looked at the potion apparatus and sighed.

"I suppose we should get started."

And so they did.


	37. Chapter 37

"It says to mix them in a pinch at a time as we stir the mixture counterclockwise," Tamblin said.

"I know but look the texture isn't right yet. It's supposed to be thin but with a skin on top and this is still just thick throughout. Let it simmer it a bit longer."

They were mixing up the reagents in the Alchemirand, the half column half bowl structure in the back of the studio. Looking down into the bowl he had to admit the potion didn't look right. The bowl however was so much larger than their normal cauldrons that the potion barely covered the bottom of it. Perhaps it was all skin?

"Okay, I think you are right."

Cascata waved her wand over the bowl, a small jet of blue flame coming from the tip. After a few more passes the top of the potion did seem to thicken up. She smiled.

"Good job. Do you want to stir or add the pinches," he asked.

"Pinches. You know we're going to have to make a ton of this stuff to make Phausto happy. I doubt this one batch will even cover a single canvas."

Tamblin thought about it.

"Yes, but at least the ingredients were easy to get, unlike Snape's Finis-dram."

Phausto started watching them from the canvas.

"Ah that almost looks right. Just wait, you'll see a thing now," he called.

Tamblin and Cascata looked at each other and shrugged. She added the last pinch of reagent. Tamblin stirred twice more counterclockwise and the potion began to bubble madly changing from the yellowish green into a totally clear mixture.

"Well that looks goo-"

Tamblin stopped in mid sentence. As soon as the potion had settled down into it's final clear consistency the Alchemirand began to shake slightly. Tamblin and Cascata each took a step back. As they watched the meager portion of Animuserum in the bottom of the large bowl expanded and expanded until the entire bowl was full of it. Phausto hooted from his painting.

"Ah yes! Plenty to make my canvases live!"

Tamblin turned to Phausto. "That's what an Alchemirand does? It makes more of a potion brewed in it?"

"It doesn't have to be brewed in it. You can pour in a finished potion too. But it only works on true potions. I don't want to catch you trying to brew butterbeer in my Alchemirand!"

"Where did you ever get it," Cascata asked.

"Hurmph. It's not a very interesting story and I never take time to tell dull anecdotes."

The Alchemirand held more than enough Animuserum for the canvases and Tamblin and Cascata spent the next couple of hours painting it onto them with wide thick bristled brushes. The most difficult part had been catching the brushes. It seemed that decades of use applying Animuserum to canvases had led to the brushes themselves becoming animate. The skittered around on their bristles like insects. Once caught firmly by the handle, though, they were easily managed, so long as they weren't set down again. Phausto meanwhile moved from one canvas to another checking that the whole surface had received a thorough coating.

By the time they had finished all the available canvases to his satisfaction they were very tired and hungry and their backs were quite sore. The Alchemirand was still almost half full despite how generous they had been with the potion.

"Phausto, can we store the rest for use later," Cascata asked sensibly.

"Nope, goes bad pretty fast, and if there is one thing you do not want on the loose it is bad Animuserum. No good can come of it."

"I guess we'll have to dispose of the rest. We'll need buckets."

Phausto snorted.

"What," Tamblin asked.

"Just press the stud on the side of the Alchemirand."

Tamblin did so and the bowl emptied until it was completely dry. There were no holes in the bottom though; instead the potion seemed to have just evaporated.

Cascata looked at it for a while.

"Where does it go," she asked.

Phausto shrugged and didn't answer.

They left the studio in the alcove and made their way together to the Great Hall and what they considered a very well deserved dinner. At the entrance of the hall Tamblin stopped Cascata.

"I've got an idea."

"What kind of idea," she asked.

"What if we made a lot of people very happy, excluding Snape?"

"I think it's a capital idea, Mr. Demosthene."

"Thank you, Ms. Vega."

And then they went to their respective tables to eat.


	38. Chapter 38

They decided mutually to take Sunday off to give themselves a break. Tamblin's back was still quite sore and Cascata looked pretty tender at breakfast. Next weekend they agreed they'd tackle the Finis-dram.

Tamblin even refrained from wandering Sunday and Monday night in favor of some luxurious rest in bed. But by Tuesday evening his back felt much better and he couldn't resist the lure of the benighted hallways any longer. After his typical four hours of sleep he got up and made ready. As he was just about to make his way out of the dormitory he heard a slapping sound at the window. Outside, in some desperation, was an owl. Tamblin opened the window as little as he could to let the owl in. The wind outside moaned through the opening until he got it shut, bringing a dreadful chill with it.

The owl itself seemed cold but not cold enough to have traveled far. It had a small envelope with it. To Tamblin's surprise it was addressed to him. Upon opening it he read

 _Tamblin,_

 _I apologize for the late hour of this note but I suspect you may well be up and about. If this note finds you well rested enough, please stop by my office. The password you used previously will still be good._

 _As Ever,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Tamblin stroked the owl. He'd walk him out to the owlery rather than force him to fly outside again, even if it was a short trip from the Ravenclaw tower. After returning the messenger, he made his way toward the headmaster's office, past the gargoyle and moving stairs and up to the bronze griffin door knocker. As with last time, Dumbledore bade him to enter before he announced himself.

Dumbledore looked as he always seemed to: tall, benign, smiling at some inner joke, with glittering eyes visible over the half moon spectacles. There was no hint of the paintings Tamblin had dropped off on his last visit to this office and he supposed they had been hung up somewhere in the castle.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes. I hope my message didn't wake you, but instead came during one of your evening constitutionals."

"I was awake, Headmaster."

"Good. Good. In fact the reason I wanted to talk to you is connected to these walks of yours."

"Yes, professor?" Tamblin was sweating slightly now.

"I need to ask something rather more of you than I would of most students your age. But we should all be challenged up to our capabilities and I believe you to be rather more mature than most first year students."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore stood and extended his hand toward Tamblin. Cupped in his palm was a small piece of white stone or ivory. Tamblin gingerly leaned forward and took it from his hand. It was ivory; a small rectangular strip of it and on one side was a carved image of a willow tree.

"What is this, sir?"

"Right now is an unusual time for Hogwarts, Tamblin. A somewhat dangerous time, in fact. At a time like this I might very well be obliged if someone who takes quiet evening constitutionals would warn me of any strange events."

"Certainly. But, sir, there are a great many strange things in this castle, how should I know which would concern you?"

"I will have to leave that to your judgment. However there is a door on the third floor that I would be particularly aware of."

"The door with the dog," he said before he thought better of it.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Yes, just so. I would strongly encourage you not to take a constitutional through that door, but if you go by it on occasion I think you may find your walks very pleasant."

Tamblin held up the piece of ivory, "And this?"

"If on any of your walks you feel the immediate need of company just break that token and I'll make haste to join you."

"I think I understand, sir."

"Good. That's all; feel free to enjoy the rest of your evening and thank you for humoring an old man. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Headmaster."

Tamblin slipped the willow tree token into the same inner pocket of his robe as his wand.


	39. Chapter 39

The Finis-dram turned out to be quite complicated and delicate to make, far more so than the Animuserum and it took Tamblin and Cascata a month's worth of weekends before they managed to get a batch that came out right. They watched with great relief and some measure of satisfaction as the oily green substance in the bottom of the Alchemirand grew to fill the entire bowl. Cascata filled ten vials, one for each Hufflepuff in her year. Tamblin filled eleven, enough for his fellow Ravenclaws, plus one. Then they made their way back to their common rooms.

Tamblin placed the vials on a table near the central hearth. He could see a few students in his year and he motioned them over to the table. He handed each a vial.

"It's the Finis-dram. For Snape's homework assignment. I managed to brew up enough for everyone."

He had wondered briefly whether any of his fellow students would object in principle and possibly even report him to Snape or Flitwick. It was a groundless fear; his classmates were thrilled. None had managed to brew the potion and few had even been able to get a sample of the Widowmaid plant. Many of the Ravenclaws thanked him profusely. Most were entirely too familiar for Tamblin's tastes, but he felt it was the wrong time to say he found no pleasure in being clapped on the back. Throughout the day he stayed in the common room and passed out the vials as his various classmates came and went. The attention made him somewhat uncomfortable as always, but he found a small part of him also thrilled at it.

When Padma Patil came in she walked slowly up to the table Tamblin sat at. She had a distinctly uncomfortable look on her face.

"I...uh...heard you had..."

Tamblin pressed something into her hand. She looked somewhat relieved and then confused as she noticed he had handed her two vials instead of one.

"The other one is for your sister. I owe you both an apology. I'm sorry for what I said during your birthday."

She smiled slightly.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome, I hope you'll forgive me."

She nodded and then turned and headed for the common room exit.


	40. Chapter 40

"So are you the favoritest Ravenclaw now?" Cascata whispered in Tranfiguration on Monday.

"They seemed very pleased, all in all. I think Padma may have forgiven me."

"That's good. Of course I did better, I'm the most beloved girl in my house at the moment."

"I'm sure you are. Must be your natural graces. Like humility."

"Yep. I suppose its reward enough that you may sit with me," she giggled.

Tamblin had to suppress a small laugh as well. Cascata certainly felt things. She was almost bouncing in her seat with pleasure over their success with the potions. She was a window that every weather of the emotions shown through. Normally that sort of thing annoyed Tambling, but in this case he found it only occasionally awkward and sometimes quite soothing. It reminded him of Vlora in some ways.


	41. Chapter 41

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs worked out a schedule so that they didn't all turn in their potions at once. Every few days one of them would turn in their sample. Tamblin took great amusement in watching Snape's eyes get progressively narrower and his sneer get progressively more twisted.

When Hannah Abbot timidly approached Snapes' desk and held out her vial, he snatched it away and held it up to the light. She started to back away when he turned on her.

"Ms. Abbot?"

"Y-yes, Professor?"

"Tell me where did you get the ingredients for your potion? The Widowmaid for instance..."

Snape stood to loom over the terrified girl. Her mouth hung open, but no sound emerged. Across the room Tamblin could see Susan Bones start to stand up from her desk but he beat her to it.

"Professor Snape," he called out, much louder than he usually spoke.

Snape's small eyes snapped onto Tamblin's.

"Mr. Demosthene, kindly stay out of other people's conversations."

"Certainly Professor, I just thought I could help since I'm the one who provided the Widowmaid."

"You did?"

"Yes, sir."

"And where did you get it, Mr. Demosthene?"

"I bought it, sir, enough for everyone in the class."

Snape's sneer developed a small tic to it.

"Am I to understand you're admitting to having cheated on an assignment in my class?"

"Cheated? No, sir. You never specified how we were to acquire the ingredients. You simply said it was left to our own resources to get them. Did I misunderstand your assignment?"

"No, Mr. Demosthene, it appears you understood it rather too well. Still, for taking such initiative away from your classmates like that I think we should have ten points from Ravenclaw. Sit down, Ms. Abbot."

Some of the Ravenclaws groaned, but Tamblin figured it was a small price to pay. On her way back to her seat Hannah mouthed the words 'thank you' to Tamblin. He felt slightly nauseous as he often did when many people were looking at him.


	42. Chapter 42

Tamblin sank back into an alcove when he heard the footsteps coming around the corner. It was nearing midnight and Filch was about. The footsteps didn't sound like the gruff caretaker, however. Whoever it was, Tamblin had no desire to be seen. The strange thing was that the steps came close and then passed by, but Tamblin saw no one. Listening carefully he heard footsteps but he couldn't see anyone at all.

Intrigued he followed the noises carefully down the hall. They headed up toward the Astronomy tower. Tamblin stayed in the stairway that opened out into the telescope landing. From there he could see most of the landing but he wasn't as exposed as he'd be on the landing itself.

Moments later the voices were revealed to be a couple Gryffindors from his year including the Granger girl that Tamblin knew from History of Magic class. They appeared suddenly on the landing. The boy laid aside something that looked like a normal cloak but which was apparently the source of their invisibility.

Tamblin watched a while longer but then several people on brooms swept down out of the darkness and onto the landing. Tamblin moved further down the stairs and into a small alcove of the stairwell to avoid being seen. It also meant that he couldn't see what went on between the Gryffindors and the new arrivals.

A few moments later he heard someone on the stairwell and pressed back into the alcove. The two Gryffindors came down the stairwell clearly relieved but also perfectly visible. Below Tamblin could hear the shuffle-scrape gait of Filch. Ms. Granger was passing with a couple feet of Tamblin and he started to reach out to warn her but then stopped.

The two passed quickly down the stairs and he heard Filch's delighted cry as they reached the bottom.

Tamblin worked back up to the landing entrance and looked out to see if the people were still there, but the landing was now deserted. He could also see the cloak laying on the landing which meant he didn't have to worry about any of the newcomers waiting invisibly.

He slipped quickly onto the landing, grabbed the cloak, and retreated back to the safety of the dark stairwell. The open star-lit landing made him feel far too exposed. The cloak material seemed to slip between his fingers like liquid or fine sand rather than cloth. He tucked the cloak into a ball and made his way down the stairwell.


	43. Chapter 43

The next Saturday a study group was planned by several of the Hufflepuffs. Cascata pleaded with Tamblin to attend as the subject was charms and he was one of the best students in the class now that he attended regularly. Finally she resorted to threats.

"It's too bad you won't be going to the study session," she said suddenly during the practice portion of Transfiguration.

Tamblin refused to be baited and said nothing while practicing the wand movements.

Cascata waited for a reaction and then went on regardless, "I'm just afraid that I might let slip about the Alcove. You know, where it is, how to get in. I'd just hate to see the place become the new Hufflepuff common room, even though the current one is rather musty. I'm sure if you were there you'd manage to catch me before I said too much."

"You wouldn't dare," Tamblin whispered fiercely.

Cascata languidly laid down her wand and looked him straight in the eyes. The corners of her mouth turned up into the slightest hint of a smirk.

"Fine. I'll go to the study hall."

She smiled all innocent and sweet.

"I knew someone as smart as you would make the right decision eventually."

Tamblin tried to maintain his dark mood at being manipulated but found it slipped away from him so that by the end of the next class period he was looking forward to seeing Cascata in Astronomy class that night.


	44. Chapter 44

Cascata's study sessions were usually held in the Hufflepuff common room, but as Tamblin couldn't get into it, they moved to a class room on the fourth floor. Looking out the windows, Tamblin could see the gorgeous spring day and no small number of students moving about the grounds. The attendees for the study sessions apparently varied as students felt they needed more or less help with a given subject. When Tamblin arrived Cascata was seated talking with Susan and Hannah. She waved him over and he took a seat at the end of the table. Susan and Hannah smiled and then went back to discussing with Cascata how to make a chair sit up, beg, or play dead. A few minutes later a winded-looking Justin Finch-Fletchley ran in.

"Sorry I'm late, I just saw the notice that you switched rooms," he panted.

Cascata smiled and said, "No problem Justin, why don't you sit there," and she pointed to a chair opposite Hannah.

Justin took the indicated chair and started rummaging in his bag. While his attention was drawn away a number of sharp meaningful looks were exchanged between Cascata, Hannah, and Susan. By the time he looked up all three seemed to be engrossed in their studying.

Cascata hadn't exaggerated when she had said she needed Tamblin's help at the session. All four of them were having trouble with the most recent charms. Hannah probably had the best form among them but nevertheless was the worst at actually getting the spells to work. Her lack of confidence made her constantly second-guess herself. She frequently mimicked Susan's methods even when her own were substantially better in the first place. Susan on the other hand seemed to have plenty of confidence but had a hard time accepting critiques and advice. She was intensely willful and at the same time had a rather easily bruised ego. Justin was a decent study but seemed perpetually distracted.

Cascata meanwhile seemed more focused on the social interactions of the group than on any scholarly benefits. She frequently prompted Hannah to be involved in discussions, especially when Justin was asking a question. She also kept dragging Tamblin into the conversation. When she wasn't redirecting questions to him, Tamblin mostly watched the study session participants. Hannah kept looking at Justin and then looking quickly away. Justin mainly stayed focused on his book or stared out the window. When he talked he always had these long pauses as he seemed to drift out of the conversation and into some daydream. Susan would try and try a charm, failing each time and getting upset nearly to the point of tears but ignoring anyone who tried to help correct her form. Then she'd get it to work once and instantly be as self-assured as ever, only to repeat the pattern with the next charm.

Three hours in Tamblin was working with Cascata and Susan on precise enunciation when Justin suddenly slammed a book shut and yawned loudly. Then he gathered his things.

"Well I'm off to get some dinner. Same time next week?" he asked no one in particular.

Cascata stood up and said, "Sure, Justin. Seems a good time to stop for today. Maybe the rest of us should go get dinner too."

Hannah said "sure," and started to gather her things.

Tamblin started to get up as well when Cascata tugged on his arm.

"Oh wait, Tamblin needs to finish showing Susan and me this enunciation chart. I guess we'll catch up," she said, vaguely in Hannah's direction.

Tamblin started to protest that he was hungry as well when he felt a small sharp jab in his shin.

Cascata turned to him and said, "Oh did you stub your toe?"

"No you—ow! Yeah, I stubbed my toe." He said as he reached down to probe the bruised flesh of his shin.

She turned back to Hannah and Justin.

"We'll be along shortly."

Hannah froze in the middle of picking up her bag.

"No, I can stay and wait for you, I'm not that hungry anyway," Hannah said.

"I'm hungry," Tamblin grumbled quietly.

"See you later," Justin said breezily and walked out.

Tamblin turned back to the enunciation chart but Susan and Cascata were gathering up their stuff.

"I thought you wanted to finish this?"

Cascata glared at Hannah, "Not much point now is there?"

Tamblin looked at Hannah who seemed to be trying to hide behind a text book.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

Susan finished gathering up her stuff and left with Hannah right behind.

Cascata finished gathering her things but then sat down on the table.

"So what did you think?" she asked.

"Of what?"

"The study session."

"Your friends have odd quirks."

"You're one to talk. How come you were so quiet?"

"I'm always quiet."

"Not with me."

"Less with you," Tamblin admitted.

"So why?"

"I don't know. It's my nature. It lets me study others."

She jumped down off the table top and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Is that what you were doing this whole time? Studying them? Studying me?"

"Yes... no... I mean... well, why shouldn't I study them?"

She rolled her eyes.

"They're people, Tamblin, not critters in a zoo. I swear sometimes you are the most thick-headed smart person ever."

"What are you getting so mad at me about? I came didn't I? I helped your friends with their studies. I got kicked, _twice,_ in the shin."

"You sit there like you're king of the universe. You don't talk to anyone unless I force you to. You study us like we're your pet project. It's not nice to treat my friends like that. To treat me like that. Is this how you treat all your friends?"

"I don't have any other friends," Tamblin answered quietly.

"I know I'm your only friend here, I mean from before you came to Hogwarts."

"I don't have any other friends," Tamblin repeated slightly harsher.

Cascata stopped and _stared_ at him.

"You mean...ever? You mean I'm your first friend...ever?"

Tamblin nodded slightly and looked away.

"But how? I mean I know you're shy but how could you grow up without ever having made a friend?"

"My dad died when I was four. My mother was...gone shortly afterward. Then I just lived with Vlora. I've spent no time with kids my own age. The only adults I talked to were people who had ties to my family estates. Accountants and the like. No child friends."

Cascata said, "Kind of a late bloomer, huh?"

Tamblin laughed in spite of himself.

"Yes, I guess I am."

Cascata watched him for a moment and then said, "You're just coasting through life. Not doing anything or being anything. Just floating along like the Fat Friar."

"Who," Tamblin asked.

"The Fat Friar. You know, the Hufflepuff ghost." She puffed out her cheeks and held her arms as if around a big belly.

"Ah yes. I think I have seen him."

"Well that's what you're like. Floating through the hallways like a house ghost." She sighed, "forget it, let's go get some dinner, Tamblin."

"I'm not really hungry but go ahead."

Cascata looked at him sadly and then left.


	45. Chapter 45

Tamblin didn't feel hungry anymore. He felt nervous and antsy, but not hungry. While everyone else was in or headed toward the Great Hall Tamblin made his way to the Library and to the shelf with Erewhon. He'd stashed the cloak he'd recovered the previous weekend in the painter's room of the alcove. There was ample storage space and it seemed nobody knew how to get in but him and Cascata. Phausto was busy painting and paid him no mind but opened dutifully to let him through.

Tamblin retrieved the cloak and headed back to the main room of the alcove. The material felt cool and twisty in his hand, almost as if it sought to slip away. He figured it'd be best to put the cloak on in the alcove and then make his way out into the castle to see if anyone could see him.

He took a breath and swept the cloak over him.

All warmth drained out of him and he started falling toward the floor in slow motion. His vision shrank down to a tunnel, and then a point, and finally went black altogether just as he struck the hard stone.


	46. Chapter 46

The world was a perfectly flat grey plain. The sky was perfectly grey too. And at the horizon the two were indistinguishable. Tamblin stood there between the flat colorless earth and the equally flat colorless sky. He looked in every direction and saw nothing. No one.

He was free.

For the first time in his life he was truly free. No eyes skewered him. No one thought about him or cared what he did. No familial responsibilities called. He chose a direction and ran without stopping. He ran for hours. He ran for weeks. He never tired, he never got hungry, and he never got thirsty. His lungs drew no air and needed none. He felt no wind on his face as he ran. His body felt cold but he didn't shiver.

His eyes eventually began to discern that the plain was not empty but filled with faint ghostly terrain. He ran through houses and forests, over oceans and mountains. The specters of humans and animals flew by and were gone. He hardly noticed.

He felt complete in a way he never had before. He belonged here. And he was free. But in another way he felt horribly incomplete. And the moment he thought that, there was something ahead that contrasted with the grey plain and it's ghostly scenery. He raced toward it and stopped just before it. It looked like the mirror he'd found in that unused classroom back at... that place... where he'd been. The frame of the mirror was insubstantial but it's face was shockingly bright and vibrant. It's silver surface reflected a world of color and bustling activity. He could see places in the mirror that looked familiar. People too. What were their names? He was having trouble remembering. A strange warmth spread through him.

He took a step toward the mirror but it pulled back away from him the same amount. He tried again and it moved away again but this time it kept fleeing. He raced after it, running with blinding speed but the mirror pulled further and further away. He raced after it for days as it slowly slipped away. The greyness around him faded imperceptibly to a black as the mirror receded from his sight.

The silver surface shone in the distance like a lone star in an infinite night. He ran on. And then the star was gone and Tamblin was lost in the blackness.


	47. Chapter 47

Tamblin's eyes opened gingerly. He didn't know where he was, or for that matter, who he was. The world was grey, but as he blinked colors slowly appeared and spread. He looked up. He didn't see a flat grey sky. It was a ceiling. One he'd seen before. He'd been here and looked up at this same ceiling before. He was laying in the infirmary much like his first night in the castle. The memory triggered others. His head felt all shaken up. Who he was and what had happened to him was only slowly coming together.

He heard a small gasp from next to him and saw a girl sitting in a chair looking at him wide eyed. She had a text book open in her lap and was working on a essay of some sort.

"You're awake," she said.

"Am I? I mean... I am. Aren't I?"

"Tamblin, are you okay?"

He had to breathe. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar. It felt crude. Visceral.

He looked at the girl again and concentrated.

"Hannah?"

"Yeah, We've been taking turns watching you during the day. Me and Cascata and Susan. The other two go to class so we don't fall behind. Justin even took a turn."

As she said each name it helped him remember more.

"I better go get Cascata. She'll kill me if she finds out you woke up and I didn't tell her right away."

She started to run out when she thought better and turned back.

"Do you need anything before I go get her? Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm... okay. Go."

He was having some trouble with time, it seemed thicker somehow than... before. He was having trouble placing what exactly that 'before' was. He was somewhere else, or something else. None of it seemed to make sense.

He heard shoes slapping on the stone floor and a small shape hurtled into him, clutching tightly at him. The solid contact was shocking. Like being in the dark for a long time and then someone shines a bright light at you. He remembered her name was Cascata and she was his friend. She kissed him on each cheek. She was saying something but she was too excited for him to make out any of it. Hannah was standing back a few feet and looking deliberately down at her shoes.

Cascata looked at him with some concern and loosened her grip on him.

"Tamblin, what's wrong, I thought you were better," she said.

"I'm just... a little confused. What happened?"

Cascata looked at Hannah.

"Hannah, could you give us a minute?"

Hannah looked slightly disappointed but left the infirmary. Cascata leaned in close and started talking in a whisper.

"I ate dinner in the Great Hall. When I came out, and was going to head to the common room, it seemed like every portrait in the castle came to find me. I swear there were dozens of witches and wizards and animals and monsters crammed into a few canvases. They all insisted that I had to go see Phausto immediately. They said it was urgent. So I went to the alcove. I couldn't see you but I could hear you moaning terribly. Phausto told me that you had put on some kind of cloak and that's how it started. I managed to get the cloak off you but I couldn't move you by myself."

She took a breath and looked around to make sure no one could overhear.

"So I asked Phausto to get the portraits to find those Gryffindor twins. They were the only other ones who knew how to get into the alcove and they were big enough to help get you to the infirmary."

"And they agreed?"

"Yeah. When they saw you were in bad shape they helped out right away. But they did make several comments I wouldn't repeat about how you got that way as we were getting you to the infirmary. That was _four days ago_ , Tamblin. You just laid there. After we got the cloak off you didn't moan anymore but you seemed dead. You hardly breathed and your skin was so cold to the touch."

Madam Pomfrey came into the room just then and noticed Tamblin was up.

"What's this, Mr. Demosthene? Had enough of a nap now have you? Well, let me check you."

She briskly felt his forehead and wrist and seemed satisfied.

"Yes, I think you should be able to leave as soon as you feel up to it."

With that she bustled around the room. Cascata made a very sour face at Madam Pomfrey's back and then leaned in to whisper some more.

"I noticed during the first day that s _he_ kept forgetting to check on you and give you medicine. That's when we started sitting in in shifts during the day and _reminding_ her to take care of you."

"That's... very nice... of all three of you."

"While you were asleep Flitwick stopped by a couple times and so did several of the Ravenclaw students. Susan said while she was here on monday that _Dumbledore_ even came by and seemed very concerned."

There was a small card on the table next to the bed. Tamblin picked it up. The inside was blank.

Cascata frowned.

"I'm not sure who dropped that off."

"I think I know," Tamblin said.

A thought occurred to Tamblin.

"Cascata, what happened to the cloak?"

A blankness swept over her features.

"Cascata?"

"Oh, I totally forgot about the cloak. It should be still in the Alcove."

"I doubt it, the twins probably have it stashed somewhere by now."

"I don't think so. By the time they got there I had the cloak off you. I tossed it in a corner so I don't think they even noticed it. Do you want me to go get it?"

"No! Don't touch it. I'll take it to Dumbledore. It's too dangerous."

"Are you sure you are okay to get up," she asked.

Tamblin stood up. His legs felt weak and unaccustomed to his weight but he didn't fall on his face again. Cascata stood next to him and put his arm around her shoulder. He leaned on her just a bit to steady himself.


	48. Chapter 48

The cloak was still in the Alcove. Tamblin carefully bundled it up.

"Thank you, Cascata. For everything. I'll take it from here. You should get back to class."

"Are you sure, Tamblin?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow in classes."

On impulse he leaned close and hugged her.

"Tell Susan and Hannah, 'thank you' as well."

She nodded and left.

Tamblin looked over at Phausto's portrait. The painter was mostly hidden behind the canvas he was working on but snuck a peek every couple minutes.

Tamblin cleared his throat.

Phausto looked out from behind the canvas within his canvas. Before Tamblin could say anything he interrupted, "I just need someone to make the Animuserum and take the paintings away. That's it."

"Cascata could have done that. You chose to help me, and you most likely saved my life. Thank you."

Phausto waved his hand as if he could swat the thanks away.

"Bah, like I could paint with you laying there moaning. _Invisibly_ moaning. If there's anything that offends a painter, it's _invisibility_."

Tamblin made a small bow to the Painter and reached out for the Erewhon book.


	49. Chapter 49

"Ah, Mr. Demosthene. I am sincerely gratified to see you have recovered."

Dumbledore's office looked much the same as the last time Tamblin had been here. Dumbledore himself sat at his desk reading a scroll.

"I never like to see a student ill, especially when their illness is so unusual."

Tamblin placed the bundled cloak on the Headmaster's desk.

"I believe this is a dangerous item. It is what caused me to be incapacitated."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair with his fingers steepled.

"I see. And where did you acquire such a dangerous artifact?"

"Another student misplaced it. I'd rather not say who. I don't think they knew it could be dangerous and I'd rather not get them in trouble."

"Your loyalty to your fellow students is admirable. Still I trust that in the future you will keep in mind that sometimes a transgression must be revealed, in order to prevent a greater tragedy."

"Yes, Professor."

"As it happens I have a suspicion as to the rightful owner of this particular item. I will return it-"

"But, Professor..." Tamblin interrupted.

"As I was saying I will return it to them, because you see, Tamblin, it is not dangerous. Or, at least, it is not dangerous to most. I believe you, in that it is quite dangerous to you... because of what _you_ are."

"I don't understand, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked slightly sad. His voice was softer than usual.

"Tamblin, what do you remember of your mother?"

Tamblin stared.

"My... mother?"

"Yes dear boy, your mother. What do you remember of her?"

"Nothing."

"What she looked like?"

Tamblin shook his head.

"The sound of her voice?"

He continued to shake his head.

"Her name? Do you remember her name, Tamblin?"

"No, Headmaster. Is that... is that odd?"

"I should say it is quite unusual, dear boy."

Dumbledore watched him closely and waited. Tamblin waited as well.

"Remarkable," Dumbledore said after the long pause. "You show remarkable patience for your age. Most first years have learned the will to question, but not the timing of it." He stopped and smiled, "nevertheless your instinct is correct and this is not the time to speak of such things."

Tamblin got up, "Goodnight, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded to him and then looked back down at the scroll on the table.


	50. Chapter 50

Back in his common room a number of Ravenclaws crowded around Tamblin and expressed their well wishes. Tamblin recovered quickly and was able to attend all of his classes the next day. Quirrell and Flitwick both commented in class that they were pleased he was feeling better.

A couple of times when he started to daydream it seemed like the world's colors became muted, but when he blinked his eyes they returned to normal.


	51. Chapter 51

"Sorry I'm late," Cascata said as she burst into the empty classroom for the study session.

She looked around and back at Tamblin who was sitting at one of the tables facing the door.

"I am late, aren't I?"

"A few minutes, that's all."

"Oh no, we must have the wrong room."

"No, this is the right room," Tamblin said.

"Isn't this Tuesday?"

"Yes it is," he couldn't help smiling by now.

"All right, fine. Where is everybody else?"

"Ah, excellent question. I told them not to come. I wanted this time alone with you."

It took her a second to absorb this.

"W-why would you want that?"

"I've determined that you were right about my needing to integrate into the school and particularly with its inhabitants. I intend- I'm sorry are you all right?"

"Yes I was just, uh, out of breath from running up here. I'm fine now."

"As I was saying I intend to be more social."

"Wait, we had to be alone so you could tell me you are going to be around people more?"

"No. I _also_ realized that while you were right about me not being social enough, you've been having problems with being overly social. Your interactions have been substantially interfering with your learning. So here you are free from distractions."

Cascata looked heartbroken.

"Oh, Tamblin, what about Susan and Hannah? They really need help too."

Tamblin's brow furrowed.

"Of course they do; that's why I'm meeting with Susan Wednesday night and Hannah on Friday."

Cascata brightened immediately.

"You mean it? And you set this all up by yourself? That's wonderful!"

"Thank you, now get to work and I'll be here if you want any help on anything."

Tamblin sat back down at the table. Instead of sitting opposite him Cascata walked around the table and pulled up a chair near to him.


	52. Chapter 52

Wednesday night Susan showed up about fifteen minutes late.

"Sorry, Hannah needed some help getting a bewitched cauldron to stop spitting out her potions. Took us forever to deal with."

Tamblin replied with merely a "hrrrm."

She dropped her books loudly on the table.

"I don't see the point of this. I mean we should really meet together so I can help Hannah with her work."

Tamblin didn't say anything but just stared at her.

"Cascata too. I mean you do a good job of helping her but still she sometimes needs a little more now and then."

More silence.

"Really I don't know what either of them would do without me."

Tamblin got up and stood in front of Susan.

She seemed quite unnerved by his silence.

"I just think we both have to try hard to make sure they pass their finals."

Tamblin gripped her arms, not painfully, but firmly.

"Susan..."

Her eyes were wide.

"What?" her voice was almost as thin as Hannah's.

"Stop."

She blinked.

"Stop what?"

"Just stop."

"I don't understand," she admitted.

"You aren't here for Hannah's sake or Cascata's."

Her jaw tensed up.

"I'm their friend. I want them to do well."

Tamblin sighed.

"Yes, but that's not what this is about. This is about you. About _you_ doing well."

There was a small flash of anger in her eyes then, like the first heralding lightning bolt of a storm.

"I'm doing fine," she said. Her voice was surly and resentful.

"Susan, am I better than you in Charms, and Transfiguration, and DADA?"

"What has that to do with it?"

Tamblin started to raise his voice slightly. It was difficult for him but he pushed himself to be loud.

"Am I better at Charms than you?"

"Yes," she said loudly.

"Am I better at Transfiguration than you?" Tamblin was getting louder.

"Yes," she said but her voice had lost some strength.

"Am I better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than you?" He was almost shouting.

"Yes," she said but only barely and her bottom lip was beginning to tremble.

Tamblin dropped his voice back to the usual soft volume.

"Do you know why I'm better at them than you are?"

She couldn't answer she just shook her head. When she did so a tear was cast away.

"Because you let me."

She still looked like she was on the verge of bawling but she appeared confused now too. Tamblin let go of her arms and steered her over to sit on the edge of the table. She moved like a zombie, as if she had no thought of what her body was doing. He sat next to her.

"You have the potential to be every bit as good as I am in Charms, and Transfiguration, and DADA. Why won't you let yourself?"

She was quiet for a bit.

"I don't know what you mean," she said finally.

"Why do you insist that you know what to do when you don't? Why do you show off for your friends?"

"I'm not showing off for them." She was openly crying now.

"Then what is it? I didn't know magic any better than you did when we first arrived, but I've allowed myself to learn. You seem to need to be an expert so bad it keeps you from actually learning the material. There's nobody here now but us. Nobody you need to impress, so tell me."

She didn't. But she did turn to him and put her head on his shoulder while she cried. Her body shook with sobs and she struggled to breathe in between them. Then the sobbing subsided and was replaced by a constant stream of softer tears. After a while he could discern that she was talking softly as well. Confessing whatever great weight she felt. He couldn't understand a word of it, but that wasn't the point. She was saying what she needed to regardless of whether anyone was listening.

They didn't get a single bit of studying done, but after an hour she straightened up and laughed slightly.

"Well, uh, thank you for...for the study session."

"Next time we'll get to some real studying," he said.

"You want to do this again?" She sounded incredulous.

"Well not precisely _this_ , but I think we may have had a bit of progress. Finals are coming up and I do want to help you get good grades."

"Thanks. For everything. Sometimes it may be good to have a friend who is...sort of on the outside." She hurried to add, "I don't mean that in a bad way."

Tamblin nodded. "I know how you mean it."

She picked up her books.

"Next time be on time," he said.

"I promise," she said and smiled. Her eyes were all puffy from the extended crying, but there was genuine warmth in the smile.

After she left Tamblin finally took off his over shirt to wring it out before heading back to the Ravenclaw tower for a much-deserved rest.


	53. Chapter 53

Friday night Tamblin arrived at the class room on time to find Hannah already there with several scrolls laid out on the table. She was arranging them in some sort of order. As he came in she looked up and smiled.

"Hi! I just wanted to get everything ready."

Tamblin looked down at the parchments. She'd used some sort of charm to make the letters in certain passages glow one color or another. She followed his look.

"Oh I just thought I'd set out the things I need help on. The parts that glow green I think I understand but I need help with actually doing. The parts that glow purple I can get to work but I have _no idea_ why it works. The parts that glow red, and see it looks like they make cute little sparks on the page, well those parts I really need help with. Oh and the yellow ones... well the yellow ones I'm just not sure which category they belong in."

Of the eight partially unrolled parchments Tamblin could see there was hardly a line that was not green, purple, red (with sparks), yellow, or some combination of the four. It looked like she had charmed some sections repeatedly before deciding which category they belonged in and the letters were either mixed colors or periodically flipped from one to another.

She looked a trifle nervous.

"I know it's a lot of stuff to go over but I just really want to do well, and Cascata and Susan both said you really helped them a lot. And..." She bit her lip. "It's too much, isn't it? I'm sorry I shouldn't have worried about the Astronomy stuff. I mean I know I can't get a good grade in that class so why bother at this point. Right? Might as well focus on the ones I can salvage."

Tamblin bent closer to examine the parchments.

"I think I can maybe do all right in Transfiguration...with a little help," she finished weakly.

Tamblin looked up.

"This is quite impressive," he said and looked back down at the parchments.

Hannah didn't say anything for a while.

Tamblin kept looking at the parchments until she finally did say something.

"It-it's what?"

"Impressive. I'm very impressed."

"B-but why?"

"Just look at it. You managed to fit dozens of charms, that you must have researched yourself, onto single parchments with very little interaction or interference between them."

Tamblin watched as she looked down at the pages. She looked like she was seeing them for the first time. He waited a moment and then interrupted softly.

"Would you mind showing me how you did that?"

Hannah looked at him with something very closely related to alarm if not panic.

"You want me to teach you?"

"If you would."

"But why?"

"Because I couldn't have done this, and you obviously can."

She blushed slightly.

"I'd very much like it if you showed me how you did it. It could be quite useful in my own studying."

She smiled. "Okay, yes."

Half an hour later she was still showing him how she'd charmed the ink. Tamblin had to admit it really was rather clever. He was in the middle of practicing changing the color of an already charmed section (something Hannah was still having some difficulty with) when he looked up and found Hannah looking at him with a sort of faraway look in her eyes.

"Something wrong, Hannah?"

"You're building up my confidence, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, but that doesn't mean I'm lying to you. What you did really is impressive. You don't need to study. Well maybe just a little, but what you really need is to get a sense of just how good you already are at these things."

"You really think so," she said.

"Absolutely. And the fact that you figured out that I was building you up should only go to prove that you are quite clever in the first place. Now show me how you made the little sparks on the red ones."

And she did.


	54. Chapter 54

There were only three weeks left until finals. Tamblin met individually with Cascata, Susan, and Hannah once a week for the first two weeks. On the third week he met with each twice and had one group session. It didn't go as well as the individual tutoring but still better than their first study session. On top of that he attended classes regularly (even Herbology) and caught up on his own studies and homework.

By the Sunday before finals began, he was thoroughly exhausted, but also pleased with the progress all around. He'd not had the energy to go for any walks since his recovery from the incident with the cloak. Nor had he had much time to ponder Dumbledore's contention that he was different somehow and the implication that it might be related to his mother. Everything else would have to wait until exams were finished.

He knew he was up to the task of Charms and he suspected he would do well in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagal was stern, but seemed fair. Snape, on the other hand, seemed to favor his house heavily. More worrying was the part he played in making sure all the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had Finis-dram to turn in. Snape might well take revenge for that slight.

Herbology was pretty much a lost cause. He thought he might barely squeeze a passing grade if he did quite well on the final, but it'd be a close thing. The girls had kindly offered to help him with the topic, but he just could not muster any interest in a subject that mostly involved wallowing in filth.

He figured Astronomy and History of Magic would be fine given his facility with rote memorization. Which just left Defense Against the Dark Arts. He knew the material and had practiced. He knew he should have felt as confident of that class as of Charms or Transfiguration but he didn't.


	55. Chapter 55

The following week was even more draining. Everyone was on edge. The tests were grueling affairs with all four houses brought into one room. The practical parts were more bearable as single students were called into a separate area to demonstrate their proficiency. Despite that he felt more confident of his scores on the written tests, especially in Herbology. After each test Cascata, Susan, and Hannah immediately congregated to decry their own miserable performance, reassure each of the others that they couldn't have done that bad on the tests, and then get down to the business of discussing specific answers and which practicals they managed and which they didn't.

Tamblin avoided these as much as possible. While he did hope that they would all do well on their finals, and while he was also sincerely making an effort to be more social, the last three weeks had been very taxing on him. All he wanted after each day's test was to find a quiet balcony or chamber and just enjoy the peace and solitude. By the time tests had finished on Friday Tamblin was beyond exhausted but also going stir crazy. He barely waited for his fellow Ravenclaws to drift off before he crept out of the tower and into the castle proper.

As he roamed the halls he called to mind various events that had happened at each place. He found himself smiling at the recollections. He wandered all over the castle lost in reverie. On the third floor he stopped, startled by a motion ahead. A door was closing but he saw no one on the other side. Odder still, he thought he could hear the faintest strains of music, cut off as the door firmly shut. Worst of all, he knew that door all too well. It was the one that lead to the room with the three headed dog. He'd been very careful to avoid it since that first encounter.

That was the room Dumbledore had hinted he was especially concerned with. Considering the door seemed to close with no one there it was likely that someone had the cloak and was using it to sneak past the dog. Dumbledore had said that he was returning the cloak to the rightful owner. Was that the Gryffindors who had used it that night in the astronomy tower or someone else? If it was the Gryffindors then that meant that students were in there. Why would they want to sneak in there? Tamblin didn't know enough about what was going on to judge the situation. Still the beast was dangerous, of that he was certain, and if it was the Gryffindors they'd already been involved in strange things.

His hand slipped into the internal robe pocket. The willow token Dumbledore had given him was still in there. He brought it out and looked at it. The Ivory slip was thin but when he tried to snap it he found it stronger than he thought. He placed it down on the stone floor and brought out his heavy wand. A _bloodwand,_ Quirrell had called it. The thick black rod had been in some ways a problem. His wrists and hands were too small still to manipulate it as delicately as the slim wood wands used by the other students. For this, though, the wand was perfect. He slammed the end of it down on the willow token which smashed into two pieces.

The two pieces began to glow at the broken edges. The glow brightened and wavered like light reflecting off water. Then the token began to dissolve at the broken ends into a silver glowing substance. It flowed out into a fluid stream that got longer as the token unraveled like a sweater. Once the token dissolved completely the strands themselves evaporated leaving nothing in the air but a smell like before a lightning storm. Not one shard of the token remained, but Tamblin assumed it had done its job in alerting Dumbledore somehow.

He made his way back to the Ravenclaw common room unsure if he'd done the right thing but too tired just now to care. The morning would be soon enough to find out.


	56. Chapter 56

The castle was very quiet the next day as students recovered from the week of finals. Tamblin was wandering aimlessly around the hallways when an owl landed in front of him with a small note in its beak.

 _Tamblin,_

 _Your vigilance is most appreciated. Please stop by my office when you have a moment._

 _Albus Dumbledore_


	57. Chapter 57

Tamblin knocked on the griffin-shaped knocker and then entered Dumbledore's office. Surprisingly, Dumbledore was not in. Tamblin was about to leave when a gruff voice startled him.

"Ah, Demosthene, yes."

The Sorting Hat lay on the Headmaster's desk, the rip in its brim opening to hiss the words.

"So what did you learn this year amongst the Ravenclaws?"

Tamblin felt slightly odd addressing a chapeau, but also felt obliged because of the place of honor it held in the school. He searched his memory of the year to determine what single lesson stood out the most.

Certainly he'd learned a great many basic feats of magic and theories of same. None of that seemed consequential enough. He'd learned there was something in his history that Dumbledore knew or suspected. But that was still an unknown quantity and not something he really learned so much as learned of. He thought some more while the hat waited patiently. He thought about the Artiste's Alcove, but of course he had no intention of revealing it to the Hat. Finally he thought about his friendships, first with Cascata and later with Susan and Hannah.

He cleared his throat and the tip of the Hat cocked slightly to the side as if paying close attention.

"I've learned this year that Hufflepuff is a most undervalued house. They are unjustly seen as the castoffs who didn't qualify for any of the 'better' houses. In truth their loyalty is a trait of tremendous value, and I wouldn't care to trade it for wit, courage, or ambition."

Dumbledore's dry voice came from behind him.

"Very well spoken. Would you mind if I shared your words with Professor Sprout?"

Tamblin turned to find the Headmaster framed by the doorway.

"Please do, Professor. Only you might not want to tell her the words were from me."

Dumbledore moved to sit behind his desk. His eyes twinkled slightly.

"Indeed. I'd hate to confuse the good woman. I don't think she's aware that she _has_ a student named Tamblin in any of her classes. I haven't the faintest idea why that might be."

Tamblin felt himself blush slightly.

"Now, Tamblin, I imagine there is a question you should quite like to ask me?"

Tamblin felt that gaze and measured how heavy it felt to him.

"Yes, Professor. Why is it that you _see_ me?"

Dumbledore seemed slightly surprised.

"My dear boy, I should have thought the more interesting question is why so many do _not_ see you."

Tamblin nodded.

"There seem to be only a few here at the school that tend to notice me. To the rest it's like I'm..."

"Invisible?"

"Yes. You see me. And Cascata does."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes, I thought that if you were to find a friend you'd really only be able to choose someone who saw you."

Tamblin blinked.

"You asked Professor Flitwick to give me that assignment?"

Dumbledore shrugged slightly, "I suggested it to Filius in passing. Anyone else?"

Tamblin thought for a moment.

"Professor Quirrell seemed to see me too."

Dumbledore's face lost its smile.

"Is something wrong, Headmaster?"

"Professor Quirrell won't be rejoining us next year, Tamblin. You needn't dwell on his interest in you. Now, you've had a very productive year here at Hogwarts and these last few weeks must have been especially trying. You should go rest up."

"Yes, Professor."

"But first..."

"Yes, Professor?"

"...help yourself to an Acid Pop," he said, holding out a bowl full of the bright green candies.

Tamblin took an Acid Pop and left, heading toward the Ravenclaw common room.


	58. Chapter 58

The Ravenclaw common room was stuffed with students shouting, talking, and laughing. In short order it became clear that the house team had won their game against Gryffindor handily and had captured the Quidditch cup. Everywhere he looked students were chatting loudly. Someone opened an album and the room filled with music that sounded like a cross between a jig and a rock ballad. People started dancing spontaneously if not particularly gracefully.

Tamblin had to laugh. Yes, it was just a stupid sport trophy but they all seemed to take such joy in it that it was infectious. He threaded through the crowd. The contact was both electrifying and a bit scary. He felt like he could overload on it easily, but he was determined to relax and try to enjoy this last night.

He was surprised by Padma pressing close to him. She had to shout so he could hear her over the din.

"Party ays 'hanks.'"

"What?" Tamblin shouted back.

"PARVATI SAYS, 'THANKS.'"

Tamblin nodded. She smiled at him gloriously. Then she went back to dancing.

Tamblin managed to stay a whole hour before he had to get away. Alone in the dormitory he reflected on his year and on the questions Dumbledore raised but never answered.


	59. Chapter 59

Despite the reprieve from any more classes, the next week seemed to pass without notice. The weather was warm and it was simply too easy to get lost in enjoying the day without remembering to notice that you were enjoying it.

So Thursday night found Tamblin packing his trunk trying to recall what he'd done the last five days. He'd spent time alone and with Cascata in the Alcove. He'd been corralled into a lengthy discussion of the grades he and the three Hufflepuffs had gotten that very afternoon, immediately after they had been posted.

The girls had done reasonably well but insisted on talking themselves down and their friends up. Tamblin had been at or near the top of the class in every subject except Potions and Herbology. Snape had graded him just below the class average which Tamblin took as a warning that he helped others at his own peril. Sprout meanwhile had let him slide with a grade just barely above failing, probably due to her own good nature and reticence to fail a first year student. Tamblin figured the two canceled each other out and was content to put it out of mind. The girls however would have none of that and spent a good half an hour criticizing Snape.

He'd also tried to research a bit about his mother but he had next to nothing to go on. He knew she had attended Hogwarts, but without a name, or a year, or even a house to go on he was stuck.

Tamblin finished packing.


	60. Chapter 60

The next morning he was up early as the train left at 11 from Hogsmeade. In the Great Hall, student milled about waiting for the carriages that would take them to town. He quickly found Susan, Cascata and Hannah standing in a group. Cascata had no bag again. It had slipped from his mind that she wouldn't be returning home over the summer because there was no welcoming home for her to go to. He was intensely reminded of their farewell at Christmas break. That seemed ages ago, before they'd managed to get into the painter's refuge in the Alcove. This time Susan and Hannah were here and that seemed somehow right.

Hannah was hugging Cascata when Tamblin reached them. As she let go he could see tears in both their eyes. Cascata dabbed hers away delicately. Susan looked a bit more stoic. All three smiled when they saw him.

"Hey, Tamblin," Hannah started, "Cassie was just making us promise to write to her. That means you too."

Tamblin felt a great guilt. How could he have forgotten about Cascata's estrangement from her father? In a way it was what had brought them together as friends in the first place. Here he was wrapped up in himself while his best friend was surely being reminded that she had nowhere to go and no family to go to.

He was looking at Cascata and nodded.

"Sure, I'll write too. Are-are you going to be okay here?"

He had to ask but he could see fresh tears appear even as she nodded her head. He reached out his left hand and took her right. A moment later Susan took his right hand and Hannah completed the circle. They stood silently holding hands until Filch barked that it was time to go.

Tamblin bent to get his bag and when he stood up he noticed something twinkle. Cascata was wearing the necklace he'd given her for Christmas on top of her shirt. She had a sweater on that still covered most of it, but this was the first time he'd seen her wear any of it openly.

He smiled and hugged her as tightly as the bag he was carrying would allow. Then he turned and followed Susan out to a carriage, with Hannah trailing behind. He would be busy in the next few months. He was sure that Vlora had managed things well, but still he'd have to put many things in order in preparation for his next year at Hogwarts.


End file.
